UNBFOLDElD 


GIFT  OF 


•w\ 


BLINDFOLDED 


The  Wolf  threw  one  malignant  look  at  us  and  was  gone 

See  page  2OI 


BLINDFOLDED 


By 
EARLE  ASHLEY  WALCOTT 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

ALICE  BARBER  STEPHENS 


NEW  YORK 

A.    WESSELS   COMPANY 
1907 


COPYRIGHT  1906 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 

SEPTEMBER 


fS 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  FAGB 

I   A  DANGEROUS  ERRAND      .....  i 

II   A  CRY  FOR  HELP         ......  n 

III  A  QUESTION  IN  THE  NIGHT        ....  17 

IV  A  CHANGE  OF  NAME           .....  26 
V    DODDRIDGE  KNAPP     ......  33 

VI  A  NIGHT  AT  BORTON'S        .....  42 

VII  MOTHER  BORTON        ......  55 

VIII  IN  WHICH  I  MEET  A  FEW  SURPRISES      .       .  68 

IX  A  DAY  IN  THE  MARKET      .....  75 

X  A  TANGLE  OF  SCHEMES      .....  87 

XI  THE  DEN  OF  THE  WOLF     .....  97 

XII  LUELLA  KNAPP    .......  in 

XIII  A  DAY  OF  GRACE        ......  123 

XIV  MOTHER  BORTON'S  ADVICE       .       .       .       .137 
XV  I  AM  IN  THE  TOILS      .....       .  156 

XVI   AN  ECHO  OF  WARNING      .       .       .       •       .  171 

XVII   IN  A  FOREIGN  LAND    .       .       .       .       .      .  185 

XVIII   THE  BATTLE  IN  THE  MAZE        .       .       .       .202 

XIX   A  DEAL  IN  STOCKS      ......  215 

XX   MAKING  PROGRESS      ......  228 

XXI   AT  THE  BIDDING  OF  THE  UNKNOWN        .       .  244 

XXII  TRAILED       ........  256 


BLINDFOLDED 

CHAPTER  I 

'A   DANGEROUS   ERRAND 

rA  city  of  hills  with  a  fringe  of  houses  crowning 
the  lower  heights ;  half-mountains  rising  bare  in  the 
background  and  becoming  real  mountains  as  they 
stretched  away  in  the  distance  to  right  and  left;  a 
confused  mass  of  buildings  coming  to  the  water's 
edge  on  the  flat ;  a  forest  of  masts,  ships  swinging 
in  the  stream,  and  the  streaked,  yellow,  gray-green 
water  of  the  bay  taking  a  cold  light  from  the  setting 
sun  as  it  struggled  through  the  wisps  of  fog  that 
fluttered  above  the  serrated  sky-line  of  the  city — 
these  were  my  first  impressions  of  San  Francisco. 

The  wind  blew  fresh  and  chill  from  the  west  with 
the  damp  and  salt  of  the  Pacific  heavy  upon  it,  as  I 
breasted  it  from  the  forward  deck  of  the  ferry 
steamer,  El  Capitan.  As  I  drank  in  the  air  and  was 
silent  with  admiration  of  the  beautiful  panorama 
that  was  spread  before  me,  my  companion  touched 
me  on  the  arm. 


2  BLINDFOLDED 

"Come  into  the  cabin,"  he  said.  "You'll  be  one 
of  those  fellows  who  can't  come  to  San  Francisco 
without  catching  his  death  of  cold,  and  then  lays 
it  on  to  the  climate  instead  of  his  own  lack  of  com 
mon  sense.  Come,  I  can't  spare  you,  now  I've  got 
you  here  at  last.  I  wouldn't  lose  you  for  a  million 
dollars." 

"I'll  come  for  half  the  money,"  I  returned,  as  he 
took  me  by  the  arm  and  led  me  into  the  close  cabin. 

My  companion,  I  should  explain,  was  Henry  Wil 
ton,  the  son  of  my  father's  cousin,  who  had  the  ad 
vantages  of  a  few  years  of  residence  in  California, 
and  sported  all  the  airs  of  a  pioneer.  We  had  been 
close  friends  through  boyhood  and  youth,  and  it  was 
on  his  offer  of  employment  that  I  had  come  to  the 
city  by  the  Golden  Gate. 

"What  a  resemblance !"  I  heard  a  woman  exclaim, 
as  we  entered  the  cabin.  "They  must  be  twins." 

"There,  Henry,"  I  whispered,  with  a  laugh ;  "you 
see  we  are  discovered."  Though  our  relationship 
was  not  close  we  had  been  cast  in  the  mold  of  some 
common  ancestor.  We  were  so  nearly  alike  in  form 
and  feature  as  to  perplex  all  but  our  intimate  ac 
quaintances,  and  we  had  made  the  resemblance  the 
occasion  of  many  tricks  in  our  boyhood  days. 

Henry  had  heard  the  exclamation  as  well  as  I. 
To  my  surprise,  it  appeared  to  bring  him  annoyance 
or  apprehension  rather  than  amusement. 

"I  had  forgotten  that  it  would  make  us  conspicu 
ous,"  he  said,  more  to  himself  than  to  me,  I  thought ; 


A   DANGEROUS    ERRAND  3 

and  he  glanced  through  the  cabin  as  though  he 
looked  for  some  peril. 

"We  were  used  to  that  long  ago,"  I  said,  as  we 
found  a  seat.  "Is  the  business  ready  for  me?  You 
wrote  that  you  thought  it  would  be  in  hand  by  the 
time  I  got  here." 

"We  can't  talk  about  it  here,"  he  said  in  a  low 
tone.  "There  is  plenty  of  work  to  be  done.  It's  not 
hard,  but,  as  I  wrote  you,  it  needs  a  man  of  pluck 
and  discretion.  It's  delicate  business,  you  under 
stand,  and  dangerous  if  you  can't  keep  your  head. 
But  the  danger  won't  be  yours.  I've  got  that  end 
of  it." 

"Of  course  you're  not  trying  to  do  anything 
against  the  law  ?"  I  said. 

"Oh,  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  law,"  he  re 
plied  with  an  odd  smile.  "In  fact,  it's  a  little  matter 
in  which  we  are — well,  you  might  say — outside  the 
law." 

I  gave  a  gasp  at  this  disturbing  suggestion,  and 
Henry  chuckled  as  he  saw  the  consternation  written 
on  my  face.  Then  he  rose  and  said : 

"Come,  the  boat  is  getting  in." 

"But  I  want  to  know — "  I  began. 

"Oh,  bother  your  Svant-to-knows.'  It's  not 
against  the  law — just  outside  it,  you  understand.  I'll 
tell  you  more  of  it  when  we  get  to  my  room.  Give 
me  that  valise.  Come  along  now."  And  as  the  boat 
entered  the  slip  we  found  ourselves  at  the  front  of 
the  pressing  crowd  that  is  always  surging  in  and  out 


4  BLINDFOLDED 

i 

of  San  Francisco  by  the  gateway  of  the  Market- 
Street  ferry. 

As  we  pushed  our  way  through  the  clamoring 
hack-drivers  and  hotel-runners  who  blocked  the  en 
trance  to  the  city,  I  was  roused  by  a  sudden  thrill  of 
the  instinct  of  danger  that  warns  one  when  he  meets 
the  eye  of  a  snake.  It  was  gone  in  an  instant,  but  I 
had  time  to  trace  effect  to  cause.  The  warning  came 
this  time  from  the  eyes  of  a  man,  a  lithe,  keen-faced 
man  who  flashed  a  look  of  triumphant  malice  on 
us  as  he  disappeared  in  the  waiting-room  of  the 
ferry-shed.  But  the  keen  face  and  the  basilisk  glance 
were  burned  into  my  mind  in  that  moment  as  deeply 
as  though  I  had  known  then  what  evil  was  behind 
them. 

My  companion  swore  softly  to  himself. 

"What's  the  matter?"    I  asked. 

"Don't  look  around,"  he  said.  "We  are  watched." 

"The  snake-eyed  man  ?" 

"Did  you  see  him,  too?"  His  manner  was  care 
less,  but  his  tone  was  troubled.  "I  thought  I  had 
given  him  the  slip,"  he  continued.  "Well,  there's 
no  help  for  it  now." 

"Are  we  to  hunt  for  a  hiding-place?"  I  asked 
doubtfully. 

"Oh,  no;  not  now.  I  was  going  to  take  you  di 
rect  to  my  room.  Now  we  are  going  to  a  hotel  with 
all  the  publicity  we  can  get.  Here  we  are." 

"Internaytional !  Internaytional !"  shouted  a  run 
ner  by  our  side.  "Yes,  sir;  here  you  are,  sir.  Free 


A   DANGEROUS    ERRAND  5 

'bus,  sir."  And  in  another  moment  we  were  in  the 
lumbering  coach,  and  as  soon  as  the  last  lingering 
passenger  had  come  from  the  boat  we  were  whirl 
ing  over  the  rough  pavement,  through  a  confusing 
maze  of  streets,  past  long  rows  of  dingy,  ugly  build 
ings,  to  the  hotel. 

Though  the  sun  had  but  just  set,  the  lights  were 
glimmering  in  the  windows  along  Kearny  Street  as 
we  stepped  from  the  'bus,  and  the  twilight  was  rap 
idly  fading  into  darkness. 

"A  room  for  the  night,"  ordered  Henry,  as  we 
entered  the  hotel  office  and  saluted  the  clerk. 

"Your  brother  will  sleep  with  you  ?"  inquired  the 
clerk. 

"Yes." 

"That's  right — if  you  are  sure  you  can  tell  which 
is  which  in  the  morning,"  said  the  clerk,  with  a 
smile  at  his  poor  joke. 

Henry  smiled  in  return,  paid  the  bill,  took  the  key, 
and  we  were  shown  to  our  room.  After  removing 
the  travel-stains,  I  declared  myself  quite  ready  to 
dine. 

"We  won't  need  this  again,"  said  Henry,  tossing 
the  key  on  the  bureau  as  we  left.  "Or  no,  on  sec 
ond  thought,"  he  continued,  "it's  just  as  well  to 
leave  the  door  locked.  There  might  be  some  in 
quisitive  callers."  And  we  betook  ourselves  to  a 
hasty  meal  that  was  not  of  a  nature  to  raise  my 
opinion  of  San  Francisco. 

"Are  you  through?"  asked  my  companion,  as  I 


6  BLINDFOLDED 

shook  my  head  over  a  melancholy  piece  of  pie,  at* 
laid  down  my  fork.    "Well,  take  your  bag.    This 
door — look  pleasant  and  say  nothing." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  bar  and  then  through  a 
back  room  or  two,  until  with  a  turn  we  were  in  a 
blind  alley.  With  a  few  more  steps  we  found  our 
selves  in  a  back  hall  which  led  into  another  build 
ing.  I  became  confused  after  a  little,  and  lost  all 
idea  of  the  direction  in  which  we  were  going.  We 
mounted  one  flight  of  stairs,  I  remember,  and  after 
passing  through  two  or  three  winding  hallways  and 
down  another  flight,  came  out  on  a  side  street. 

After  a  pause  to  observe  the  street  before  we 
ventured  forth,  Henry  said : 

"I  guess  we're  all  right  now.  We  must  chance 
it,  anyhow."  So  we  dodged  along  in  the  shadow  till 
we  came  to  Montgomery  Street,  and  after  a  brief 
walk,  turned  into  a  gloomy  doorway  and  mounted 
a  worn  pair  of  stairs. 

The  house  was  three  stories  in  height.  It  stood 
on  the  corner  of  an  alley,  and  the  lower  floor  was 
intended  for  a  store  or  saloon;  but  a  renting 
agent's  sign  and  a  collection  of  old  show-bills  orna 
menting  the  dirty  windows  testified  that  it  was  va 
cant.  The  liquor  business  appeared  to  be  overdone 
in  that  quarter,  for  across  the  alley,  hardly  twenty 
feet  away,  was  a  saloon ;  across  Montgomery  Street 
was  another;  and  two  more  held  out  their  friendly 
lights  on  the  corner  of  the  street  above. 

In  the  saloons  the  disreputability  was  cheerful, 


A   DANGEROUS   ERRAND  7 

and  cheerfully  acknowledged  with  lights  and  noise, 
here  of  a  broken  piano,  there  of  a  wheezy  accordeon, 
and,  beyond,  of  a  half-drunken  man  singing  or  shout 
ing  a  ribald  song.  Elsewhere  it  was  sullen  and  dark, 
— the  lights,  where  there  were  lights,  glittering 
through  chinks,  or  showing  the  outlines  of  drawn 
curtains. 

"This  isn't  just  the  place  I'd  choose  for  enter 
taining  friends,"  said  Henry,  with  a  visible  relief 
from  his  uneasiness,  as  we  climbed  the  worn  and 
dirty  stair. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  I  said,  magnanimously  ac 
cepting  his  apology. 

"It  doesn't  have  all  the  modern  conveniences," 
admitted  Henry  as  we  stumbled  up  the  second  flight, 
"but  it's  suitable  to  the  business  we  have  in  hand, 
and—" 

"What's  that?"  I  exclaimed,  as  a  creaking,  rasp 
ing  sound  came  from  the  hall  below. 

We  stopped  and  listened,  peering  into  the  ob 
scurity  beneath. 

Nothing  but  silence.  The  house  might  have  been 
a  tomb  for  any  sign  of  life  that  showed  within  it. 

"It  must  have  been  outside,"  said  Henry.  "I 
thought  for  a  moment  perhaps — "  Then  he  checked 
himself.  "Well,  you'll  know  later,"  he  concluded, 
and  opened  the  door  of  the  last  room  on  the  right 
of  the  hall. 

As  we  entered,  he  held  the  door  ajar  for  a  full 
minute,  listening  intently.  The  obscurity  of  the  hall 


8  BLINDFOLDED 

gave  back  nothing  to  eye  or  ear,  and  at  last  he  closed 
the  door  softly  and  touched  a  match  to  the  gas. 

The  room  was  at  the  rear  corner  of  the  building. 
There  were  two  windows,  one  looking  to  the  west, 
the  other  to  the  north  and  opening  on  the  narrow 
alley. 

"Not  so  bad  after  you  get  in,"  said  Henry,  half 
as  an  introduction,  half  as  an  apology. 

"It's  luxury  after  six  days  of  railroading,"  I  re 
plied. 

"Well,  lie  down  there,  and  make  the  most  of  it, 
then,"  he  said,  "for  there  may  be  trouble  ahead." 
And  he  listened  again  at  the  crack  of  the  door. 

"In  Heaven's  name,  Henry,  what's  up?''  I  ex 
claimed  with  some  temper.  "You're  as  full  of  mys 
teries  as  a  dime  novel." 

Henry  smiled  grimly. 

"Maybe  you  don't  recognize  that  this  is  serious 
business,"  he  said. 

"I  don't  understand  it  at  all." 

"Well,  I'm  not  joking.  There's  mischief  afoot, 
and  I'm  in  danger." 

"From  whom  ?  From  what  ?" 

"Never  mind  that  now.  It's  another  person's  busi 
ness — not  mine,  you  understand — and  I  can't  ex 
plain  until  I  know  whether  you  are  to  be  one  of  us 
or  not." 

"That's  what  I  came  for,  isn't  it?" 

"Hm !  You  don't  seem  to  be  overly  pleased  with 
the  job." 


A   DANGEROUS    ERRAND  9 

"Which  isn't  surprising,  when  I  haven't  the  first 
idea  what  it  is,  except  that  it  seems  likely  to  get  me 
killed  or  in  jail." 

"Oh,  if  you're  feeling  that  way  about  it,  I  know 
of  another  job  that  will  suit  you  better  in  — " 

"I'm  not  afraid,"  I  broke  in  hotly.  "But  I  want 
to  see  the  noose  before  I  put  my  head  in  it." 

"Then  I'm  sure  the  assistant  bookkeeper's  place 
I  have  in  mind  will — " 

"Confound  your  impudence !"  I  cried,  laughing  in 
spite  of  myself  at  the  way  he  was  playing  on  me. 
"Assistant  bookkeeper  be  hanged!  I'm  with  you 
from  A  to  Z ;  but  if  you  love  me,  don't  keep  me  in 
the  dark." 

"I'll  tell  you  all  you  need  to  know.  Too  much 
might  be  dangerous." 

I  was  about  to  protest  that  I  could  not  know  too 
much,  when  Henry  raised  his  hand  with  a  warning 
to  silence.  I  heard  the  sound  of  a  cautious  step  out 
side.  Then  Henry  sprang  to  the  door,  flung  it  open, 
and  bolted  down  the  passage.  There  was  the  gleam 
of  a  revolver  in  his  hand.  I  hurried  after  him,  but 
as  I  crossed  the  threshold  he  was  coming  softly 
back,  with  finger  on  lips. 

"I  must  see  to  the  guards  again.  I  can  have  them 
together  by  midnight." 

"Can  I  help?" 

"No.  Just  wait  here  till  I  get  back.  Bolt  the  door, 
and  let  nobody  in  but  me.  It  isn't  likely  that  they 
will  try  to  do  anything  before  midnight.  If  they 


io  BLINDFOLDED 

do — well,  here's  a  revolver.  Shoot  through  the  door 
if  anybody  tries  to  break  it  down." 

I  stood  in  the  door,  revolver  in  hand,  watched 
him  down  the  hall,  and  listened  to  his  footsteps  as 
they  descended  the  stairs  and  at  last  faded  away  into 
the  murmur  of  life  that  came  up  from  the  open 
street. 


CHAPTER  II 

A  CRY  FOR  HELP 

I  hastily  closed  and  locked  the  door.  It  shut  out 
at  least  the  eyes  and  ears  that,  to  my  excited  imagina 
tion,  lurked  in  the  dark  corners  and  half-hidden 
doorways  of  the  dimly-lighted  hall.  And  as  I  turned 
back  to  the  room  my  heart  was  heavy  with  bitter 
regret  that  I  had  ever  left  my  home. 

This  was  not  at  all  what  I  had  looked  for  when 
I  started  for  the  Golden  Gate  at  my  friend's  offer  of 
a  "good  place  and  a  chance  to  get  rich." 

Then  I  rallied  my  spirits  with  something  of  resolu 
tion,  and  shamed  myself  with  the  reproach  that  I 
should  fear  to  share  any  danger  that  Henry  was 
ready  to  face.  Wearied  as  I  was  with  travel,  I  was 
too  much  excited  for  sleep.  Reading  was  equally 
impossible.  I  scarcely  glanced  at  the  shelf  of  books 
that  hung  on  the  wall,  and  turned  to  a  study  of  my 
surroundings. 

The  room  was  on  the  corner,  as  I  have  said,  and 
I  threw  up  the  sash  of  the  west  window  and  looked 
out  over  a  tangle  of  old  buildings,  ramshackle  sheds, 
and  an  alley  that  appeared  to  lead  nowhere.  A 
wooden  shutter  swung  from  the  frame-post  of  the 

ii 


12  BLINDFOLDED 

window,  reaching  nearly  to  a  crazy  wooden  stair"  that 
led  from  the  black  depths  below.  There  were  lights 
here  and  there  in  the  back  rooms.  Snatches  of 
drunken  song  and  rude  jest  came  up  from  an  un 
seen  doggery,  and  vile  odors  came  with  them.  Shad 
ows  seemed  to  move  here  and  there  among  the  dark 
places,  but  in  the  uncertain  light  I  could  not  be  sure 
whether  they  were  men,  or  only  boxes  and  barrels. 

Some  sound  of  a  drunken  quarrel  drew  my  atten 
tion  to  the  north  window,  and  I  looked  out  into  the 
alley.  The  lights  from  Montgomery  Street  scarcely 
gave  shape  to  the  gloom  below  the  window,  but  I 
could  distinguish  three  or  four  men  near  the  side 
entrance  of  a  saloon.  They  appeared  quiet  enough. 
The  quarrel,  if  any  there  was,  must  be  inside  the  sa 
loon.  After  an  interval  of  comparative  silence,  the 
noise  rose  again.  There  were  shouts  and  curses, 
sounds  as  of  a  chair  broken  and  tables  upset,  and  one 
protesting,  struggling  inebriate  was  hurled  out  from 
the  front  door  and  left,  with  threats  and  foul  lan 
guage,  to  collect  himself  from  the  pavement. 

This  edifying  incident,  which  was  explained  to  me 
solely  by  sound,  had  scarcely  come  to  an  end  when 
a  noise  of  creaking  boards  drew  my  eyes  to  the  other 
window.  The  shutter  suddenly  flew  around,  and  a 
;human  figure  swung  in  at  the  open  casing.  Astonish- 
'ment  at  this  singular  proceeding  did  not  dull  the 
instinct  of  self-defense.  The  survey  of  my  surround 
ings  and  the  incident  of  the  bar-room  row  had  in 
a  measure  prepared  me  for  any  desperate  doings,  and 


A   CRY   FOR   HELP  13 

I  had  swung  a  chair  ready  to  strike  a  blow  before 
I  had  time  to  think. 

"S-h-h !"  came  the  warning  whisper,  and  I  recog 
nized  my  supposed  robber.  It  was  Henry. 

His  clothes  and  hair  were  disordered,  and  his  face 
and  hands  were  grimy  with  dust. 

"Don't  speak  out  loud,"  he  said  in  suppressed 
tones.  "Wait  till  I  fasten  this  shutter.  The  other 
one's  gone,  but  nobody  can  get  in  from  that  side 
unless  they  can  shin  up  thirty  feet  of  brick  wall." 

"Shall  I  shut  the  window?"  I  asked,  thoroughly 
impressed  by  his  manner. 

"No,  you'll  make  too  much  noise,"  he  said,  strip 
ping  off  his  coat  and  vest.  "Here,  change  clothes 
with  me.  Quick !  It's  a  case  of  life  and  death.  I 
must  be  out  of  here  in  two  minutes.  Do  as  I  say, 
now.  Don't  ask  questions.  I'll  tell  you  about  it  in 
a  day  or  two.  No,  just  the  coat  and  vest.  There — 
give  me  that  collar  and  tie.  Where's  your  hat?" 

The  changes  were  completed,  or  rather  his  were, 
and  he  stood  looking  as  much  like  me  as  could  be 
imagined. 

"Don't  stir  from  this  room  till  I  come  back,"  he 
whispered.  "You  can  dress  in  anything  of  mine 
you  like.  I'll  be  in  before  twelve,  or  send  a  mes 
senger  if  I'm  not  coming.  By-by." 

He  was  gone  before  I  could  say  a  word,  and  only 
an  occasional  creaking  board  told  me  of  his  pro 
gress  down  the  stairs.  He  had  evidently  had  some 
practice  in  getting  about  quietly.  I  could  only  won- 


14  BLINDFOLDED 

der,  as  I  closed  and  locked  the  door,  whether  it  was 
the  police  or  a  private  enemy  that  he  was  trying  to 
avoid. 

I  had  small  time  to  speculate  on  the  possibilities, 
for  outside  the  window  I  heard  the  single  word, 
"Help!" 

The  cry  was  half-smothered,  and  followed  by  a 
gurgling  sound  and  noise  as  of  a  scuffle  in  the  alley. 

I  rushed  to  the  window  and  looked  out.  A  band 
of  half  a  dozen  men  was  struggling  and  pushing 
away  from  Montgomery  Street  into  the  darker  end 
of  the  alley.  They  were  nearly  under  the  window. 

"Give  it  to  him,"  said  a  voice. 

In  an  instant  there  came  a  scream,  so  freighted 
with  agony  that  it  burst  the  bonds  of  gripping  fingers 
and  smothering  palms  that  tried  to  close  it  in,  and 
rose  for  the  fraction  of  a  second  on  the  foul  air  of 
the  alley.  Then  a  light  showed  and  a  tall,  broad- 
shouldered  figure  leaped  back. 

"These  aren't  the  papers,"  it  hissed.  "Curse  on 
you,  you've  got  the  wrong  man!" 

There  was  a  moment's  confusion,  and  the  light 
flashed  on  the  man  who  had  spoken  and  was  gone. 
But  that  flash  had  shown  me  the  face  of  a  man  I 
could  never  forget — a  man  whose  destiny  was  bound 
up  for  a  brief  period  with  mine,  and  whose  wicked 
plans  have  proved  the  master  influence  of  my  life. 
It  was  a  strong,  cruel,  wolfish  face — the  face  of  a 
man  near  sixty,  with  a  fierce  yellow-gray  mustache 
and  imperial — a  face  broad  at  the  temples  and  taper- 


A   CRY   FOR   HELP  15 

ing  down  into  a  firm,  unyielding  jaw,  and  marked 
then  with  all  the  lines  of  rage,  hatred,  and  chagrin 
at  the  failure  of  his  plans. 

It  took  not  a  second  for  me  to  see  and  hear  and 
know  all  this,  for  the  vision  came  and  was  gone  in 
the  dropping  of  an  eyelid.  And  then  there  echoed 
through  the  alley  loud  cries  of  "Police!  Murder! 
Help !"  I  was  conscious  that  there  was  a  man  run 
ning  through  the  hall  and  down  the  rickety  stairs, 
making  the  building  ring  to  the  same  cries.  My  own 
feelings  were  those  of  overmastering  fear  for  my 
friend.  He  had  gone  on  his  mysterious,  dangerous 
errand,  and  I  felt  that  it  was  he  who  had  been 
dragged  into  the  alley,  and  stabbed,  perhaps  to  death. 
Yet  it  seemed  I  could  make  no  effort,  nor  rouse  my 
self  from  the  stupor  of  terror  into  which  I  was 
thrown  by  the  scene  I  had  witnessed. 

It  was  thus  with  a  feeling  of  surprise  that  I  found 
myself  in  the  street,  and  came  to  know  that  the  cries 
for  help  had  come  from  me,  and  that  I  was  the  man 
who  had  run  through  the  hall  and  down  the  stairs 
shouting  for  the  police. 

Singularly  enough  there  was  no  crowd  to  be  seen, 
and  no  excitement  anywhere.  Some  one  was  playing 
a  wheezy  melodeon  in  the  saloon,  and  men  were 
singing  a  drunken  song.  The  alley  was  dark,  and  I 
could  see  no  one  in  its  depths.  The  house  through 
which  I  had  flown  shouting  was  now  silent,  and  if 
any  one  on  the  street  had  heard  me  he  had  hurried 
on  and  closed  his  ears,  lest  evil  befall  him. 


16  BLINDFOLDED 

Fortunately  the  policeman  on  the  beat  was  at  hand, 
and  I  hailed  him  excitedly. 

"Only  rolling  a  drunk,"  he  said  lightly,  as  I  told 
of  what  I  had  seen. 

"No,  it's  worse  than  that/'  I  insisted.  "There 
was  murder  done,  and  I'm  afraid  it's  my  friend." 

He  listened  more  attentively  as  I  told  him  how 
Henry  had  left  the  house  just  before  the  cry  for 
help  had  risen. 

The  policeman  took  me  by  the  shoulders,  turned 
me  to  the  gaslight,  and  looked  in  my  face. 

"Excuse  me,  sor,"  he  said.  "I  see  you're  not  one 
of  that  kind.  Some  of  'em  learns  it  from  the  blith- 
erin'  Chaneymen." 

I  was  mystified  at  the  moment,  but  I  found  later 
that  he  suspected  me  of  having  had  an  opium  dream. 
The  house,  I  learned,  was  frequented  by  the  "opium 
fiends,"  as  they  figure  in  police  slang. 

"It's  a  nasty  place,"  he  continued.  "It's  lucky 
I've  got  a  light."  He  brought  up  a  dark  lantern  from 
his  overcoat  pocket,  and  stood  in  the  shelter  of  the 
building  as  he  lighted  it.  "There's  not  many  as 
carries  'em,"  he  continued,  "but  they're  mighty 
handy  at  times." 

We  made  our  way  to  the  point  beneath  the  win 
dow,  where  the  men  had  stood. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  seen — no  sign  of  strug 
gle,  no  shred  of  torn  clothing,  no  drop  of  blood. 
Body,  traces  and  all  had  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  III 

A  QUESTION  IN  THE  NIGHT 

I  was  stricken  dumb  at  this  end  to  the  investiga 
tion,  and  half  doubted  the  evidence  of  my  eyes. 

"Well,"  said  the  policeman,  with  a  sigh  of  relief, 
"there's  nothing  here." 

I  suspected  that  his  doubts  of  my  sanity  were  re 
turning. 

"Here  is  where  it  was  done,"  I  asserted  stoutly, 
pointing  to  the  spot  where  I  had  seen  the  struggling 
group  from  the  window.  "There  were  surely  five 
or  six  men  in  it." 

The  policeman  turned  his  lantern  on  the  spot. 
The  rough  pavement  had  taken  no  mark  of  the 
scuffle. 

"It's  hard  to  make  sure  of  things  from  above  in 
this  light,"  said  the  policeman,  hinting  once  more 
his  suspicion  that  I  was  confusing  dreams  with 
reality. 

"There  was  no  mistaking  that  job,"  I  said.  "See 
here,  the  alley  leads  farther  back.  Bring  your  light." 

"Aisy,  now,"  said  the  policeman.  "I'll  lead  the 
way.  Maybe  you  want  one  yourself,  as  your  friend 
has  set  the  fashion." 

17 


i8  BLINDFOLDED 

A  few  paces  farther  the  alley  turned  at  a  right 
angle  to  the  north,  yawning  dark  behind  the  grim 
and  threatening  buildings,  and  filled  with  noisome 
odors.  We  looked  narrowly  for  a  body,  and  then 
for  traces  that  might  give  hint  of  the  passage  of  a 
party. 

"Nothing  here,"  said  the  policeman,  as  we  came 
out  on  the  other  street.  "Maybe  they've  carried  him 
into  one  of  these  back-door  dens,  and  maybe  they 
whisked  him  into  a  hack  here,  and  are  a  mile  or  two 
away  by  now." 

"But  we  must  follow  them.  He  may  be  only 
wounded  and  can  be  rescued.  And  these  men  can  be 
caught."  I  was  almost  hysterical  in  my  eagerness. 

"Aisy,  aisy,  now,"  said  the  policeman.  "Go  back 
to  your  room,  now.  That's  the  safest  place  for  you, 
and  you  can't  do  nothin'  at  all  out  here.  I'll  report 
the  case  to  the  head  office,  an'  we'll  send  out  the 
alarm  to  the  force.  Now,  here's  your  door.  Just 
rest  aisy,  and  they'll  let  you  know  if  anything's 
found." 

And  he  passed  on,  leaving  me  dazed  with  dread 
and  despair  in  the  entrance  of  the  fateful  house. 

The  sounds  of  drunken  pleasure  were  lessening 
about  me.  The  custom  had  fallen  off  in  the  saloon 
across  the  street  to  such  extent  that  the  proprietor 
was  putting  up  the  shutters.  The  saloon  on  the  cor 
ner  of  the  alley  was  still  waiting  for  stray  customers 
and  I  crossed  over  to  it  with  the  thought  that  the 
inmates  might  give  me  a  possible  clue. 


A   QUESTION   IN   THE   NIGHT      19 

A  man  half-asleep  leaned  back  in  a  chair  by  the 
stove  with  his  chin  on  his  breast.  Two  rough-look 
ing  men  at  a  table  who  were  talking  in  low  tones 
pretended  not  to  notice  my  entrance,  but  their  fur 
tive  glances  gave  more  eloquent  evidence  of  their  in 
terest  than  the  closest  stare. 

The  barkeeper  eyed  me  with  apparent  openness. 
I  called  for  a  glass  of  wine,  partly  as  an  excuse  for 
my  visit,  and  partly  to  revive  my  shaken  spirits. 

"Any  trouble  about  here  to-night?"  I  asked  in  my 
most  affable  tone. 

The  barkeeper  looked  at  me  with  cold  suspicion. 

"No,  sir,"  he  said  shortly.  "This  is  the  quietest 
neighborhood  in  town." 

"I  should  think  there  would  be  a  disturbance  every 
time  that  liquor  was  sold,"  was  my  private  com 
ment,  as  I  got  the  aftertaste  of  the  dose.  But  I 
merely  wished  him  good  night  as  I  paid  for  the 
drink,  and  sauntered  out. 

I  promptly  got  into  my  doorway  before  any  one 
could  reach  the  street  to  see  whither  I  went,  and 
listened  to  a  growling  comment  and  a  mirthless 
laugh  that  followed  my  departure.  Hardly  had  I 
gained  my  concealment  when  the  swinging  doors 
of  the  saloon  opened  cautiously,  and  a  face  peered 
out  into  the  semi-darkness.  With  a  muttered  curse 
it  went  back,  and  I  heard  the  barkeeper's  voice  in 
some  jest  about  a  failure  to  be  "quick  enough  to 
catch  flies." 

Once  more  in  the  room  to  wait  till  morning  should 


20  BLINDFOLDED 

give  me  a  chance  to  work,  I  looked  about  the  dingy 
place  with  a  heart  sunk  to  the  lowest  depths.  I  was 
alone  in  the  face  of  this  mystery.  I  had  not  one 
friend  in  the  city  to  whom  I  could  appeal  for  sym 
pathy,  advice  or  money.  Yet  I  should  need  all  of 
these  to  follow  this  business  to  the  end — to  learn  the 
fate  of  my  cousin,  to  rescue  him,  if  alive  and  to 
avenge  him,  if  dead. 

Then,  in  the  hope  that  I  might  find  something 
among  Henry's  effects  to  give  me  a  clue  to  the  men 
who  had  attacked  him,  I  went  carefully  through  his 
clothes  and  his  papers.  But  I  found  that  he  did  not 
leave  memoranda  of  his  business  lying  about.  The 
only  scrap  that  could  have  a  possible  bearing  on  it 
was  a  sheet  of  paper  in  the  coat  he  had  changed 
with  me.  It  bore  a  rough  map,  showing  a  road 
branching  thrice,  with  crosses  marked  here  and  there 
upon  it.  Underneath  was  written : 

"Third  road — cockeyed  barn — iron  cow." 

Then  followed  some  numerals  mixed  in  a  drunken 
dance  with  half  the  letters  of  the  alphabet — the 
explanation  of  the  map,  I  supposed,  in  cipher,  and 
as  it  might  prove  the  clue  to  this  dreadful  business, 
I  folded  the  sheet  carefully  in  an  envelope  and 
placed  it  in  an  inmost  pocket. 

The  search  having  failed  of  definite  results,  I  sat 
with  chair  tilted  against  the  wall  to  consider  the 
situation.  Turn  it  as  I  would,  I  could  make  nothing 
good  of  it.  There  were  desperate  enterprises  afoot 
of  which  I  could  see  neither  beginning  nor  end,  pur- 


A  QUESTION   IN  THE   NIGHT      21 

pose  nor  result.  I  repented  of  my  consent  to  mix 
in  these  dangerous  doings  and  resolved  that  when 
the  morning  came  I  would  find  other  quarters,  take 
up  the  search  for  Henry,  and  look  for  such  work 
as  might  be  found. 

It  was  after  midnight  when  I  had  come  to  this 
conclusion,  and,  barring  doors  and  windows  as  well 
as  I  could,  I  flung  myself  on  the  bed  to  rest.  I  did 
not  expect  to  sleep  after  the  exciting  events  through 
which  I  had  passed ;  yet  after  a  bit  the  train  of  men 
tal  pictures  drawn  out  by  the  surging  memories  of 
the  night  became  confused  and  faded  away,  and  I 
sank  into  an  uneasy  slumber. 

When  I  awoke  it  was  with  a  start  and  an  oppres 
sive  sense  that  somebody  else  was  in  the  room. 
The  gas-light  that  I  had  left  burning  had  been  put 
out.  Darkness  was  intense.  The  beating  of  my  own 
heart  was  the  only  sound  I  could  distinguish.  I 
sat  upright  and  felt  for  the  matches  that  I  had  seen 
upon  the  stand. 

In  another  instant  I  was  flung  back  upon  the  bed. 
Wiry  fingers  gripped  my  throat,  and  a  voice  hissed 
in  my  ear : 

"Where  is  he?  Where  is  the  boy?  Give  me  your 
papers,  or  I'll  wring  the  life  out  of  you !" 

I  was  strong  and  vigorous,  and,  though  taken  at  a 
disadvantage,  struggled  desperately  enough  to  break 
the  grip  on  my  throat  and  get  a  hold  upon  my  as 
sailant. 

"Where  is  the  boy?"  gasped  the  voice  once  more.: 


22  BLINDFOLDED 

and  then,  as  I  made  no  reply,  but  twined  my  arms 
about  him,  my  assailant  saved  all  his  breath  for  the 
struggle. 

We  rolled  to  the  floor  with  a  thud  that  shook 
the  house,  and  in  this  change  of  base  I  had  the  luck 
to  come  out  uppermost.  Then  my  courage  rose  as 
I  found  that  I  could  hold  my  man.  I  feared  a  knife, 
but  if  he  had  one  he  had  not  drawn  it,  and  I  was 
able  to  keep  his  hands  too  busy  to  allow  him  to  get 
possession  of  it  now.  Finding  that  he  was  able  to 
accomplish  nothing,  he  gave  a  short  cry  and  called : 

"Conn !" 

I  heard  a  confusion  of  steps  outside,  and  a  sound 
as  of  a  muffled  oath.  Then  the  door  opened,  there 
was  a  rush  of  feet  behind  me,  and  the  flash  of  a 
bull's-eye  lantern.  I  released  my  enemy,  and  sprang 
back  to  the  corner  where  I  could  defend  myself  at 
some  advantage.  It  was  a  poor  chance  for  an  un 
armed  man,  but  I  found  a  chair  and  set  my  teeth  to 
give  an  account  of  myself  to  the  first  who  advanced, 
and  reproached  the  lack  of  foresight  that  had  al 
lowed  me  to  lay  the  revolver  under  the  pillow  in 
stead  of  putting  it  in  my  pocket. 

I  could  distinguish  four  dark  figures  of  men ;  but, 
'instead  of  rushing  upon  me  as  I  stood  on  the  de 
fensive,  they  seized  upon  my  assailant.  I  looked  on 
panting,  and  hardly  able  to  regain  my  breath.  It 
was  not  half  a  minute  before  my  enemy  was  securely 
bound  and  gagged  and  carried  out.  One  of  the  men 
lingered. 


A   QUESTION    IN   THE    NIGHT      23 

"Don't  take  such  risks,"  he  said.  "I  wouldn't  have 
your  job,  Mr.  Wilton,  for  all  the  old  man's  money. 
If  we  hadn't  happened  up  here,  you'd  have  been  done 
for  this  time." 

"In  God's  name,  man,  what  does  all  this  mean?" 
I  gasped. 

The  man  looked  at  me  in  evident  surprise. 

"They've  got  a  fresh  start,  I  guess,"  he  said. 
"You'd  better  get  some  of  the  men  up  here.  Mr. 
Richmond  sent  us  up  to  bring  this  letter." 

He  was  gone  silently,  and  I  was  left  in  the  dark 
ness.  I  struck  a  match,  lighted  the  gas  once  more,  and, 
securing  the  revolver,  looked  to  the  letter.  The  en 
velope  bore  no  address.  I  tore  it  open.  The  lines 
were  written  in  a  woman's  hand,  and  a  faint  but  per 
culiar  perfume  rose  from  the  paper.  It  bore  but 
these  words: 

"Don't  make  the  change  until  I  see  you.  The 
money  will  be  ready  in  the  morning.  Be  at  the  bank 
at  10:30." 

The  note,  puzzling  as  it  was,  was  hardly  an  addi 
tion  to  my  perplexities.  It  was  evident  that  I  had 
been  plunged  into  the  center  of  intrigue,  plot  and 
counterplot.  I  was  supposed  to  have  possession  of 
somebody's  boy.  A  powerful  and  active  enemy 
threatened  me  with  death.  An  equally  active  friend 
was  working  to  preserve  my  safety.  People  of 
wealth  were  concerned.  I  had  dimly  seen  a  fragment 
of  the  struggling  forces,  and  it  was  plain  that  only 


24  BLINDFOLDED 

a  very  rich  person  could  afford  the  luxury  of  hiring 
the  bravos  and  guards  who  threatened  and  protected 
me. 

How  wide  were  the  ramifications  of  the  mystery? 
Whose  was  the  boy,  and  what  was  wanted  of  him? 
Had  he  been  stolen  from  home  and  parents?  Or 
was  he  threatened  with  mortal  danger  and  sent  into 
hiding  to  keep  him  from  death? 

The  fate  of  Henry  showed  the  power  of  those  who 
were  pursuing  me.  Armed  as  he  was  with  the  know 
ledge  of  his  danger,  knowing,  as  I  did  not,  what  he 
had  to  guard  and  from  what  he  had  to  guard  it,  he 
had  yet  fallen  a  victim. 

I  could  not  doubt  that  he  was  the  man  assaulted 
and  stabbed  in  the  alley  below.  But  the  fact  that  no 
trace  of  him  or  of  a  tragedy  was  to  be  found  gave 
me  hope  that  he  was  still  alive.  Yet,  at  best,  he  was 
wounded  and  in  the  hands  of  his  enemies,  a  prisoner 
to  the  men  who  had  sought  his  life.  It  must  be, 
however,  that  he  was  not  yet  recognized.  The  trans 
fer  of  the  chase  to  me  was  proof  that  the  scoundrels 
had  been  misled  by  the  resemblance  between  us,  and 
by  the  letters  found  in  the  coat.  They  were  conj 
vinced  that  he  was  Giles  Dudley,  and  that  I  was 
Henry  Wilton.  As  long  as  there  was  hope  that  he 
was  alive  I  would  devote  myself  to  searching  for 
him  and  to  helping  him  to  recover  his  liberty. 

As  I  was  hoping,  speculating,  planning  thus,  I 
was  startled  to  hear  a  step  on  the  stair. 

The  sound  was  not  one  that  need  be  thought  out 


A    QUESTION    IN    THE    NIGHT      25 

of  place  in  such  a  house  and  neighborhood,  even 
though  the  hour  was  past  four  in  the  morning.  But 
it  struck  a  chill  through  me,  and  I  listened  with 
growing  apprehension  as  it  mounted  step  by  step. 

The  dread  silence  of  the  house  that  had  cast  its 
shadow  of  fear  upon  me  now  seemed  to  become 
vocal  with  protest  against  this  intrusion,  and  to  send 
warning  through  the  halls.  At  last  the  step  halted 
before  my  door  and  a  loud  knock  startled  the  echoes. 

With  a  great  bound  my  heart  threw  off.  its 
tremors,  and  I  grasped  the  revolver  firmly : 

"Who's  there?" 

"Open  the  door,  sor ;  I've  news  for  ye." 

"Who  are  you?" 

"Come  now,  no  nonsense;  I'm  an  officer." 

I  unlocked  the  door  and  stepped  to  one  side.  My 
bump  of  caution  had  developed  amazingly  in  the  few 
hours  I  had  spent  in  San  Francisco,  and,  in  spite  of 
his  assurance,  I  thought  best  to  avoid  any  chance  of 
a  rush  from  my  unknown  friends,  and  to  put  my 
self  in  a  good  position  to  use  my  revolver  if  neces 
sary. 

The  man  stepped  in  and  showed  his  star.  He 
was  the  policeman  I  had  met  when  I  had  run  shout 
ing  into  the  street. 

"I  suspicion  we've  found  your  friend,"  he  said 
gravely.  "You're  wanted  at  the  morgue." 

"Dead!"  I  gasped. 

"Dead  as  Saint  Patrick — rest  his  sowl !" 


CHAPTER  IV 

A   CHANGE  OF   NAME 

"Here's  your  way,  sor,"  said  the  policeman,  turn 
ing  into  the  old  City  Hall,  as  it  was  even  then 
known,  and  leading  me  to  one  of  the  inner  rooms 
of  the  labyrinth  of  offices. 

The  odors  of  the  prison  were  heavy  upon  the 
building.  The  foul  air  from  the  foul  court-rooms 
and  offices  still  hung  about  the  entrance,  and  the 
fog-laden  breeze  of  the  early  morning  hours  was 
powerless  to  freshen  it. 

The  policeman  opened  an  office  door,  saluted,  and 
motioned  me  to  enter. 

"Detective  Coogan,"  he  said,  "here's  your  man." 

Detective  Coogan,  from  behind  his  desk,  nodded 
with  the  careless  dignity  of  official  position. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Wilton/'  he  said  affably. 

If  I  betrayed  surprise  at  being  called  by  Henry's 
name,  Detective  Coogan  did  not  notice  it.  But  I 
hastened  to  disclaim  the  dangerous  distinction. 

"I  am  not  Wilton,"  I  declared.  "My  name  is 
Dudley— Giles  Dudley." 

At  this  announcement  Detective  Coogan  turned 
to  the  policeman. 

26 


A    CHANGE   OF   NAME  27 

"Just  step  into  Morns'  room,  Corson,  and  tell  him 
I'm  going  up  to  the  morgue." 

"Now,"  he  continued,  as  the  policeman  closed  the 
door  behind  him,  "this  won't  do,  Wilton.  We've 
had  to  overlook  a  good  deal,  of  course,  but  you 
needn't  think  you  can  play  us  for  suckers  all  the 
time." 

"But  I  tell  you  I'm  not — "  I  began,  when  he  inter 
rupted  me. 

"You  can't  make  that  go  here,"  he  said  con 
temptuously.  "And  I'll  tell  you  what,  Wilton,  I 
shall  have  to  take  you  into  custody  if  you  don't 
come  down  to  straight  business.  We  don't  want  to 
chip  in  on  the  old  man's  play,  of  course,  especially 
as  we  don't  know  what  his  game  is."  Detective 
Coogan  appeared  to  regret  this  admission  that  he 
was  not  omniscient,  and  wrent  on  hastily :  "You 
know  as  well  as  we  do  that  we  don't  want  any  fight 
with  him.  But  I'll  tell  you  right  now  that  if  you 
force  a  fight,  we'll  make  it  so  warm  for  him  that 
he'll  have  to  throw  you  overboard  to  lighten  ship." 

Here  was  a  fine  prospect  conveyed  by  Detective 
Coogan's  picturesque  confusion  of  metaphors.  If  I 
persisted  in  claiming  my  own  name  and  person  I 
was  to  be  clapped  into  jail,  and  charged  with 
Heaven-knows-what  crimes.  If  I  took  my  friend's 
name,  I  was  to  invite  the  career  of  adventure  of 
which  I  had  just  had  a  taste.  And  while  this  was 
flashing  through  my  mind,  I  wondered  idly  who 
the  "old  man"  could  be.  The  note  I  had  received 


28  BLINDFOLDED 

was  certainly  in  a  lady's  hand.  But  if  the  lady  was 
Henry's  employer,  it  was  evident  that  he  had  dealt 
with  the  police  as  the  representative  of  a  man  of 
power. 

My  decision  was  of  necessity  promptly  taken. 

"Oh,  well,  if  that's  the  way  you  look  at  it,  Coo- 
gan,"  I  said  carelessly,  "it's  all  right.  I  thought  it 
was  agreed  that  we  weren't  to  know  each  other." 

This  was  a  chance  shot,  but  it  hit. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  detective,  "I  remember.  But, 
you  see,  this  is  serious  business.  Here's  a  murder 
on  our  hands,  and  from  all  I  can  learn  it's  on  ac 
count  of  your  confounded  schemes.  We've  got  to 
know  where  we  stand,  or  there  will  be  the  Old  Nick 
to  pay.  The  papers  will  get  hold  of  it,  and  then — 
well,  you  remember  that  shake-up  we  had  three 
years  ago." 

"But  you  forget  the  'old  man,' "  I  returned.  The 
name  of  that  potent  Unknown  seemed  to  be  my  only 
weapon  in  the  contest  with  Detective  Coogan,  and  I 
thought  this  a  time  to  try  its  force. 

"Not  much,  I  don't!"  said  Coogan,  visibly  dis 
turbed.  "But  if  it  comes  to  a  choice,  we'll  have  to 
risk  a  battle  with  him." 

"Well,  maybe  we're  wasting  time  over  a  trifle," 
said  I,  voicing  my  hope.  "Perhaps  your  dead  man 
belongs  somewhere  else." 

"Come  along  to  the  morgue,  then,"  said  he. 

"Where  was  he  found?"  I  asked  as  we  walked 
out  of  the  City  Hall. 


ACHANGEOFNAME  29 

"He  was  picked  up  at  about  three  o'clock  in  the 
back  room  of  the  Hurricane  Deck — the  water-front 
saloon,  you  know — near  the  foot  of  Folsom  Street." 

Detective  Coogan  asked  a  number  of  questions  as 
we  walked,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  came  to  the 
undertaker's  shop  that  served  as  the  city  morgue. 
At  the  best  of  times  it  could  not  be  a  place  of  cheer. 
In  the  hour  before  daybreak,  with  the  chill  air  of 
the  morning  almost  suppressing  the  yellow  gas 
lights,  the  errand  on  which  I  had  come  made  it  the 
abode  of  dread.  Yet  I  hoped — hoped  in  such  an 
agony  of  fear  that  I  became  half-insensible  to  my 
surroundings. 

"Here  it  is,"  said  Coogan,  opening  a  door. 

The  low  room  was  dark  and  chill  and  musty,  but 
its  details  started  forth  from  the  obscurity  as  he 
turned  up  the  lights. 

Detective  Coogan' s  words  seemed  to  come  from  a 
great  distance  as  he  said:  "Here,  you  see,  he  was 
"stabbed.  The  knife  went  to  the  heart.  Here  he  was 
hit  with  something  heavy  and  blunt;  but  it  had 
enough  of  an  edge  to  cut  the  scalp  and  lay  the  cheek 
open.  The  skull  is  broken.  See  here — " 

I  summoned  my  resolution  and  looked. 

Disfigured  and  ghastly  as  it  was,  I  recognized  it. 
It  was  the  face  of  Henry  Wilton. 

The  next  I  knew  I  was  sitting  on  a  bench,  and  the 
detective  wras  holding  a  bottle  to  my  lips. 

"There,  take  another  swallow,"  he  said,  not  un 
kindly.  "I  didn't  know  you  weren't  used  to  it." 


30  BLINDFOLDED' 

"Oh,"  I  gasped,  "I'm  all  right  now/'  And  I  was 
able  to  look  steadily  at  the  gruesome  surroundings 
and  the  dreadful  burden  on  the  slab. 

"Is  this  the  man  ?"  asked  the  detective. 

"Yes." 

"His  name?" 

"Dudley — James  Dudley."  I  was  not  quite  will 
ing  to  transfer  the  whole  of  my  identity  to  the  dead, 
and  changed  the  Giles  to  James. 

"Was  he  a  relative?" 

I  shook  my  head,  though  I  could  not  have  said 
why  I  denied  it.  Then,  in  answer  to  the  detective's 
question,  I  told  the  story  of  the  scuffle  in  the  alley, 
and  of  the  events  that  followed. 

"Did  you  see  any  of  the  men?  To  recognize 
them,  I  mean?" 

I  described  the  leader  as  well  as  I  was  able — the 
man  with  the  face  of  the  wolf  that  I  had  seen  in  the 
lantern-flash. 

Detective  Coogan  lost  his  listless  air,  and  looked 
at  me  in  astonishment. 

"I  don't  see  your  game,  Wilton,"  he  said. 

"I'm  giving  you  the  straight  facts,"  I  said  sul 
lenly,  a  little  disturbed  by  his  manner  and  tone. 

"Well,  in  that  case,  I'd  expect  you  to  keep  the 
straight  facts  to  yourself,  my  boy." 

It  was  my  turn  to  be  astonished. 

"Well,  that's  my  lookout,"  I  said  with  assumed 
carelessness. 

"I  don't  see  through  you,"  said  the  detective  with 


A   CHANGE   OF    NAME  31 

some  irritation.  "If  you're  playing  with  me  to  stop 
this  inquiry  by  dragging  in — well,  we  needn't  use 
names — you'll  find  yourself  in  the  hottest  water  you 
ever  struck." 

"You  can  do  as  you  please,"  I  said  coolly. 

The  detective  ripped  out  an  oath. 

"If  I  knew  you  were  lying,  Wilton,  I'd  clap  you 
in  jail  this  minute." 

"Well,  if  you  want  to  take  the  risks — "  I  said 
smiling. 

He  looked  at  me  for  a  full  minute. 

"Candidly,  I  don't,  and  you  know  it,"  he  said. 
"But  this  is  a  stunner  on  me.  What's  your  game, 
anyhow  ?" 

I  wished  I  knew. 

"So  accomplished  a  detective  should  not  be  at  a 
loss  to  answer  so  simple  a  question." 

"Well,  there's  only  one  course  open,  as  I  see,"  he 
said  with  a  groan.  "We've  got  to  have  a  story  ready 
for  the  papers  and  the  coroner's  jury." 

This  was  a  new  suggestion  for  me  and  I  was 
alarmed. 

"You  can  just  forget  your  little  tale  about  the 
row  in  the  alley,"  he  continued.  "There's  nothing 
to  show  that  it  had  anything  to  do  with  this  man 
here.  Maybe  it  didn't  happen.  Anyhow,  just  think 
it  was  a  dream.  This  was  a  water-front  row — 
tough  saloon — killed  and  robbed  by  parties  un 
known.  Maybe  we'll  have  you  before  the  coroner 
for  the  identification,  but  maybe  it's  better  not," 


32  BLINDFOLDED 

I  nodded  assent.  My  mind  was  too  numbed  to 
suggest  another  course. 

The  gray  dawn  was  breaking  through  the  chill 
fog,  and  people  were  stirring  in  the  streets  as  De 
tective  Coogan  led  the  way  out  of  the  morgue.  As 
we  parted  he  gave  me  a  curious  look. 

"I  suppose  you  know  your  own  business,  Wilton," 
he  said,  "but  I  suspect  you'd  be  a  sight  safer  if  I'd 
clap  you  in  jail." 

And  with  this  consoling  comment  he  was  gone, 
and  I  was  left  in  the  dawn  of  my  first  morning  in 
San  Francisco,  mind  and  body  at  the  nadir  of  de 
pression  after  the  excitement  and  perils  of  the  night. 


CHAPTER  V 

DODDRIDGE    KNAPP 

It  was  past  ten  o'clock  of  the  morning  when  the 
remembrance  of  the  mysterious  note  I  had  received 
the  preceding  night  came  on  me.  I  took  the  slip 
from  my  pocket,  and  read  its  contents  once  more : 

"Don't  make  the  change  until  I  see  you.  The 
money  will  be  ready  in  the  morning.  Be  at  the  bank 
at  10:30." 

This  was  perplexing  enough,  but  it  furnished  me 
with  an  idea.  Of  course  I  could  not  take  money  in 
tended  for  Henry  Wilton.  But  here  was  the  first 
chance  to  get  at  the  heart  of  this  dreadful  business. 
The  writer  of  the  note,  I  must  suppose,  was  the 
mysterious  employer.  If  I  could  see  her  I  could  find 
the  way  of  escape  from  the  dangerous  burden  of 
Henry  Wilton's  personality  and  mission. 

But  which  bank  could  be  meant  ?  The  only  names 
I  knew  were  the  Bank  of  California,  whose  failure 
in  the  previous  year  had  sent  echoes  even  into  my 
New  England  home,  and  the  Anglo-Californian 
Bank,  on  which  I  held  a  draft.  The  former  struck 
me  as  the  more  likely  place  of  appointment,  and 

33 


34  BLINDFOLDED 

after  some  skilful  navigating  I  found  myself  at  the 
corner  of  California  and  Sansome  Streets,  before 
the  building  through  which  the  wealth  of  an  empire 
had  flowed. 

I  watched  closely  the  crowd  that  passed  in  and 
out  of  the  treasure-house,  and  assumed  what  I  hoped 
was  an  air  of  prosperous  indifference  to  my  sur 
roundings. 

No  one  appeared  to  notice  me.  There  were  eager 
men  and  cautious  men,  and  men  who  looked  secure 
and  men  who  looked  anxious,  but  neither  man  nor 
woman  was  looking  for  me. 

Plainly  I  had  made  a  bad  guess.  A  hasty  walk 
through  several  other  banks  that  I  could  see  in  the 
neighborhood  gave  no  better  result,  and  I  had  to 
acknowledge  that  this  chance  of  penetrating  the 
mystery  was  gone.  I  speculated  for  the  moment  on 
what  the  effects  might  be.  To  neglect  an  order  of 
this  kind  might  result  in  the  withdrawal  of  the  pro 
tection  that  had  saved  my  life,  and  in  turning  me 
over  to  the  mercies  of  the  banditti  who  thought  I 
knew  something  of  the  whereabouts  of  a  boy. 

As  I  reflected  thus,  I  came  upon  a  crowd  massed 
about  the  steps  of  a  great  granite  building  in  Pine 
Street;  a  whirlpool  of  men,  it  seemed,  with  cross 
currents  and  eddies,  and  from  the  whole  rose  the 
murmur  of  excited  voices. 

It  was  the  Stock  Exchange,  the  gamblers'  para 
dise,  in  which  millions  were  staked,  won  and  lost, 
and  ruin  and  affluence  walked  side  by  side. 


DODDRIDGEKNAPP  35 

As  I  watched  the  swaying,  shouting  mass  with 
wonder  and  amusement,  a  thrill  shot  through  me. 

Upon  the  steps  of  the  building,  amid  the  crowd 
of  brokers  and  speculators,  I  saw  a  tall,  broad-shoul 
dered  man  of  fifty  or  fifty-five,  his  face  keen,  shrewd 
and  hard,  broad  at  the  temples  and  tapering  to  a 
strong  jaw,  a  yellow-gray  mustache  and  imperial 
half-hiding  and  half-revealing  the  firm  lines  of  the 
mouth,  with  the  mark  of  the  wolf  strong  upon  the 
whole.  It  was  a  face  never  to  be  forgotten  as  long 
as  I  should  hold  memory  at  all.  It  was  the  face  I 
had  seen  twelve  hours  before  in  the  lantern  flash 
in  the  dreadful  alley,  with  the  cry  of  murder  ring 
ing  in  my  ears.  Then  it  was  lighted  by  the  fierce 
fires  of  rage  and  hatred,  and  marked  with  the  cha 
grin  of  baffled  plans.  Now  it  was  cool,  good-hu 
mored,  alert  for  the  battle  of  the  Exchange  that  had 
already  begun.  But  I  knew  it  for  the  same,  and  was 
near  crying  aloud  that  here  was  a  murderer. 

I  clutched  my  nearest  neighbor  by  the  arm,  and 
demanded  to  know  who  it  was. 

"Doddridge  Knapp,"  replied  the  man  civilly. 
"He's  running  the  Chollar  deal  now,  and  if  I  could 
only  guess  which  side  he's  on,  I'd  make  a  fortune 
in  the  next  few  days.  He's  the  King  of  Pine  Street." 

While  I  was  looking  at  the  King  of  the  Street 
and  listening  to  my  neighbor's  tales  of  his  opera 
tions,  Doddridge  Knapp's  eyes  met  mine.  To  my 
amazement  there  was  a  look  of  recognition  in  them. 
Yet  he  made  no  sign,  and  in  a  moment  was  gone. 


36  BLINDFOLDED 

This,  then,  was  the  enemy  I  was  to  meet!  This 
was  the  explanation  of  Detective  Coogan's  hint  that 
I  should  be  safer  in  jail  than  free  on  the  streets  to 
face  this  man's  hatred  or  revenge. 

I  must  have  stood  in  a  daze  on  the  busy  street, 
for  I  was  roused  by  some  one  shaking  my  arm  with 
vigor. 

"Come!  are  you  asleep?"  said  the  man,  speaking 
in  my  ear.  "Can't  you  hear?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  I,  rousing  my  attention. 

"The  chief  wants  you."  His  voice  was  low,  al 
most  a  whisper. 

"The  chief?  Who?  Where?"  I  asked.  "At  the 
City  Hall?"  I  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was, 
of  course,  the  chief  of  police,  on  the  scent  of  the 
murder. 

"No.  Of  course  not.  In  the  second  office,  you 
know." 

This  was  scarcely  enlightening.  Doubtless,  how 
ever,  it  was  a  summons  from  my  unknown  em 
ployer. 

"I'll  follow  you,"  said  I  promptly. 

"I  don't  think  I'd  better  go,"  said  the  messenger 
dubiously.  "He  didn't  say  anything  about  it,  and 
you  know  he's  rather — " 

"Well,  I  order  it,"  I  cut  in  decisively.  "I  may 
need  you." 

I  certainly  needed  him  at  that  moment  if  I  was  to 
find  my  way. 

"Go  ahead  a  few  steps,"  I  said. 


DODDRIDGE    KNAPP  37 

My  tone  and  manner  impressed  him,  and  he  went 
without  another  word.  I  sauntered  after  him  with 
as  careless  an  air  as  I  could  assume.  My  heart  was 
beating  fast.  I  felt  that  I  was  close  to  the  mystery 
and  that  the  next  half-hour  would  determine 
whether  I  was  to  take  up  Henry  Wilton's  work  or 
to  find  my  way  in  safety  back  to  my  own  name  and 
person. 

My  unconscious  guide  led  the  way  along  Mont 
gomery  Street  into  an  office  building,  up  a  flight  of 
stairs,  and  into  a  back  hallway. 

"Stay  a  moment,"  I  said,  as  he  had  his  hand  on 
the  door  knob.  "On  second  thoughts  you  can  wait 
down  stairs." 

He  turned  back,  and  as  his  footsteps  echoed  down 
the  stair  I  opened  the  door  and  entered  the  office. 

As  I  crossed  the  threshold  my  heart  gave  a  great 
bound,  and  I  stopped  short.  Before  me  sat  Dodd- 
ridge  Knapp,  the  King  of  the  Street,  the  man  for 
whom  above  all  others  in  the  world  I  felt  loathing 
and  fear. 

Doddridge  Knapp  finished  signing  his  name  to  a 
paper  on  his  desk  before  he  looked  up. 

"Come  in  and  sit  down,"  he  said.  The  voice  was 
alert  and  businesslike — the  voice  of  a  man  accus 
tomed  to  command.  But  I  could  find  no  trace  of 
feeling  in  it,  nothing  that  could  tell  me  of  the  hatred 
or  desperate  purpose  that  should  inspire  such  a 
tragedy  as  I  had  witnessed,  or  warn  me  of  danger 
to  come. 


38  BLINDFOLDED 

"Do  you  hear?"  he  said  impatiently;  "shut 
door  and  sit  down.   Just  spring  that  lock,  will  you? 
We  might  be  interrupted." 

I  was  not  at  all  certain  that  I  should  not  wish 
very  earnestly  that  he  might  be  interrupted  in  what 
Bret  Harte  would  call  the  "subsequent  proceed 
ings."  But  I  followed  his  directions. 

Doddridge  Knapp  was  not  less  impressive  at  close 
view  than  at  long  range.  The  strong  face  grew 
stronger  when  seen  from  the  near  distance. 

"My  dear  Wilton,"  he  said,  "I've  come  to  a  place 
where  I've  got  to  trust  somebody,  so  I've  come  back 
to  you."  The  voice  was  oily  and  persuasive,  but  the 
keen  gray  eyes  shot  out  a  glance  from  under  the 
bushing  eyebrows  that  thrilled  me  as  a  warning. 

"It's  very  kind  of  you,"  I  said,  swallowing  my 
astonishment  with  an  effort. 

"Well,"  said  Knapp,  "the  way  you  handled  that 
Ophir  matter  was  perfectly  satisfactory;  but  I'll  tell 
you  that  it's  on  Mrs.  Knapp's  say-so,  as  much  as  on 
your  own  doings,  that  I  select  you  for  this  job." 

"I'm  much  obliged  to  Mrs.  Knapp,"  I  said  po 
litely.  I  was  in  deep  waters.  It  was  plainly  unsafe 
to  do  anything  but  drift. 

"Oh,  you  can  settle  that  with  her  at  your  next 
call,"  he  said  good  humoredly. 

The  jaded  nerves  of  surprise  refused  to  respond 
further.  If  I  had  received  a  telegram  informing  me 
that  the  dispute  over  the  presidency  had  been  settled 
by  shelving  both  Hayes  and  Tilden  and  giving  the 


DODDRIDGEKNAPP  39 

unanimous  vote  of  the  electors  to  me,  I  should  have 
accepted  it  as  a  matter  of  course.  I  took  my  place 
unquestioningly  as  a  valued  acquaintance  of  Dodd- 
ridge  Knapp's  and  a  particular  friend  of  Mrs. 
Knapp's. 

Yet  it  struck  me  as  strange  that  the  keen-eyed 
King  of  the  Street  had  failed  to  discover  that  he  was 
not  talking  to  Henry  Wilton,  but  to  some  one  else 
who  resembled  him.  There  were  enough  differ 
ences  in  features  and  voice  to  distinguish  us  among 
intimate  friends,  though  there  were  not  enough  to 
be  seen  by  casual  acquaintances.  I  had  the  key  in 
the  next  sentence  he  spoke. 

"I  have  decided  that  it  is  better  this  time  to  do 
our  business  face  to  face.  I  don't  want  to  trust  mes 
sengers  on  this  affair,  and  even  cipher  notes  are 
dangerous, — confoundedly  dangerous/' 

Then  we  had  not  been  close  acquaintances. 

"Oh,  by  the  way,  you  have  that  other  cipher  yet, 
haven't  you  ?"  he  asked. 

"No,  I  burnt  it,"  I  said  unblushingly. 

"That's  right,"  he  said.  "It  was  best  not  to  take 
risks.  Of  course  you  understand  that  it  won't  do 
for  us  to  be  seen  together." 

"Certainly  not,"  I  assented. 

"I  have  arranged  for  another  office.  Here's  the 
address.  Yours  is  Room  15.  I  have  the  key  to  17, 
and  1 6  is  vacant  between  with  a  'To  Let'  sign  on  it. 
They  open  into  each  other.  You  understand  ?" 

"Perfectly,"  I  said. 


40  BLINDFOLDED 

"You  will  be  there  by  nine  o'clock  for  your  or 
ders.  If  you  get  none  by  twelve,  there  will  be  none 
for  the  day." 

"If  I  can't  be  there,  I'll  let  you  know."  I  was  off 
my  guard  for  a  moment,  thinking  of  the  possible 
demands  of  Henry's  unknown  employer. 

"You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Dodd- 
ridge  Knapp  shortly.  His  voice,  so  smooth  and 
businesslike  a  moment  before,  changed  suddenly  to 
a  growl.  His  heavy  eyebrows  came  down,  and  from 
under  them  flashed  a  dangerous  light.  "You  will  be 
there  when  I  tell  you,  young  man,  or  you'll  have  to 
reckon  with  another  sort  of  customer  than  the  one 
you've  been  dealing  with.  This  matter  requires 
prompt  and  strict  obedience  to  orders.  One  slip 
may  ruin  the  whole  plan." 

"You  can  depend  on  me,"  I  said  with  assumed 
confidence.  "Am  I  to  have  any  discretion?" 

"None  whatever." 

I  had  thus  far  been  able  to  get  no  hint  of  his  pur 
poses.  If  I  had  not  known  what  I  knew,  I  should 
have  supposed  that  his  mind  was  concentrated  on 
the  apparent  object  before  him — to  secure  the  zeal 
and  fidelity  of  an  employee  in  some  important  busi 
ness  operation. 

"And  what  am  I  to  do?"  I  asked. 

"Be  a  capitalist,"  he  said  with  an  ironical  smile. 
"Buy  and  sell  what  I  tell  you  to  buy  and  sell.  Keep 
under  cover,  but  not  too  much  under  cover.  You 
can  pick  your  own  brokers.  Better  begin  with  Bock- 


DODDRIDGEKNAPP  41 

stein  and  Eppner,  though.  Your  checks  will  be  hon 
ored  at  the  Nevada  Bank.  Oh,  here's  a  cipher,  in 
case  I  want  to  write  you.  I  suppose  you'll  want 
some  ready  money." 

Doddridge  Knapp  was  certainly  a  liberal  pro 
vider,  for  he  shoved  a  handful  of  twenty-dollar  gold 
pieces  across  the  desk  in  a  way  that  made  my  eyes 
open. 

"By  the  way,"  he  continued,  "I  don't  think  I  have 
your  signature,  have  I  ?" 

"No,  sir,"  I  replied  with  prompt  confidence. 

"Well,  just  write  it  on  this  slip  then.  I'll  turn  it 
into  the  bank  for  your  identification.  You  can  take 
this  check-book  with  you." 

"Anything  more?" 

"That's  all,"  he  replied  with  a  nod  of  dismissal. 
"Maybe  it's  to-morrow — maybe  it's  next  month." 

And  I  walked  out  into  Montgomery  Street,  be 
wildered  among  the  conflicting  mysteries  in  which 
I  had  been  entangled. 


CHAPTER  VI 
A  NIGHT  AT  BORTON'S 

Room  15  was  a  plain,  comfortable  office  in  a 
plain,  comfortable  building  on  Clay  Street,  not  far 
from  the  heart  of  the  business  district.  It  was  on  the 
second  floor,  and  its  one  window  opened  to  the  rear, 
and  faced  a  desolate  assortment  of  back  yards,  rear 
walls,  and  rickety  stairways.  The  floor  had  a  worn 
carpet,  and  there  was  a  desk,  a  few  chairs  and  a  shelf 
of  law  books.  The  place  looked  as  though  it  had  be 
longed  to  a  lawyer  in  reduced  circumstances,  and  I 
could  but  wonder  how  it  had  come  into  the  posses 
sion  of  Doddridge  Knapp,  and  what  had  become  of 
its  former  occupant. 

I  tried  to  thrust  aside  a  spirit  of  melancholy,  and 
looked  narrowly  to  the  opportunities  offered  by  the 
room  for  attack  and  defense.  The  walls  were  solidly 
built.  The  window-casement  showed  an  unusual 
depth  for  a  building  of  that  height.  The  wall  had 
been  put  in  to  withstand  an  earthquake  shock.  The 
door  opening  into  the  hall,  the  door  into  Room  16, 
and  the  window  furnished  the  three  avenues  of  pos 
sible  attack  or  retreat.  The  window  upon  examina 
tion  appeared  impracticable.  There  was  a  sheer 


A   NIGHT   AT    BORTON'S          43 

drop  of  twenty  feet,  without  a  projection  of  any 
kind  below  it.  The  ledge  was  hardly  an  inch  wide. 
The  iron  shutters  by  which  it  might  be  closed  did 
not  swing  within  ten  feet  of  any  other  window.  The 
one  chance  of  getting  in  by  this  line  was  to  drop  a 
rope  ladder  from  the  roof.  The  door  opening  into 
Room  1 6  was  not  heavy,  and  the  lock  was  a  cheap 
affair.  A  good  kick  would  send  the  whole  thing  into 
splinters.  As  it  swung  into  Number  16  and  not  into 
my  room  it  could  not  be  braced  with  a  barricade. 
Plainly  it  was  not  a  good  place  to  spend  the  night 
should  Doddridge  Knapp  care  to  engineer  another 
case  of  mysterious  disappearance. 

The  depression  of  spirits  that  progressed  with  my 
survey  of  the  room  deepened  into  gloom  as  I  flung 
myself  into  the  arm-chair  before  the  desk ,  and  tried 
to  plan  some  way  out  of  the  tangle  in  which  I  was 
involved.  How  was  I,  single-handed,  to  contend 
against  the  power  of  the  richest  man  in  the  city,  and 
bring  home  to  him  the  murder  of  Henry  Wilton? 
I  could  look  for  no  assistance  from  the  police.  The 
words  of  Detective  Coogan  were  enough  to  show 
that  only  the  most  convincing  proof  of  guilt,  backed 
by  fear  of  public  sentiment,  could  bring  the  depart 
ment  to  raise  a  finger  against  him.  And  how  could 
I  hope  to  rouse  that  public  sentiment  ?  What  would 
my  \vord  count  against  that  of  the  King  of  the 
Street? 

Where  was  the  motive  for  the  crime?  Until  that 
was-  made  clear  I  could  not  hope  to  piece  together 


44  BLINDFOLDED 

the  scraps  of  evidence  into  a  solid  structure  of  proof. 
And  what  motive  could  there  be  that  would  recon 
cile  the  DocMridge  Knapp  who  sought  the  life  of 
Henry  Wilton,  with  the  Doddridge  Knapp  of  this 
morning,  who  was  ready  to  engage  him  in  his  con 
fidential  business?  And  had  I  the  right  to  accept 
any  part  in  his  business  ?  It  had  the  flavor  of  treach 
ery  about  it ;  yet  it  seemed  the  only  possible  chance 
to  come  upon  the  secret  springs  of  his  acts,  to  come 
in  touch  with  the  tools  and  accomplices  in  his  crime. 
And  the  unknown  mission,  that  had  brought  Henry 
to  his  death?  How  was  I  to  play  his  part  in  that? 
And  even  if  I  could  take  his  place,  how  was  I  to 
serve  the  mysterious  employer  and  Doddridge 
Knapp  at  the  same  time,  when  Doddridge  Knapp 
was  ready  to  murder  me  to  gain  the  Unknown's 
secret. 

Fatigue  and  loss  of  sleep  deepened  the  dejection 
of  mind  that  oppressed  me  with  these  insistent  ques 
tions,  and  as  I  vainly  struggled  against  it,  carried 
me  at  last  into  the  oblivion  of  dreamless  slumber. 

The  next  I  knew  I  was  awaking  to  the  sound  of 
breaking  glass.  It  was  dark  but  for  a  feeble  light 
that  came  from  the  window.  Every  bone  in  my 
body  ached  from  the  cramped  position  in  which  I 
had  slept,  and  it  seemed  an  age  before  I  could  rouse 
myself  to  act.  It  was,  however,  but  a  second  before 
I  was  on  my  feet,  revolver  in  hand,  with  the  desk 
between  me  and  a  possible  assailant. 

Silence,  threatening,  oppressive,  surrounded  me 


A    NIGHT   AT    BORTON'S          45 

as  I  stood  listening,  watching,  for  the  next  move. 
Then  I  heard  a  low  chuckle,  as  of  some  one  strug 
gling  to  restrain  his  laughter;  and  so -far  from  sym 
pathizing  with  his  mirth,  I  was  tempted  to  try  the 
effect  of  a  shot  as  an  assistance  in  suppressing  it. 

"I  thought  the  transom  was  open,"  said  a  low 
voice,  which  still  seemed  to  be  struggling  with  sup 
pressed  laughter. 

"I  guess  it  woke  him  up,"  said  another  and 
harsher  voice.  "I  heard  a  noise  in  there." 

"You're  certain  he's  there?"  asked  the  first  voice 
with  another  chuckle. 

"Sure,  Dicky.  I  saw  him  go  in,  and  Porter  and  I 
have  taken  turns  on  watch  ever  since." 

"Well,  it's  time  he  came  out,"  said  Dicky.  "He 
can't  be  asleep  after  that  racket.  Say!"  he  called, 
"Harry!  What's  the  matter  with  you?  If  you're 
dead  let  us  know." 

They  appeared  friendly,  but  I  hesitated  in  fram 
ing  an  answer. 

"We'll  have  to  break  down  the  door,  I  guess," 
said  Dicky.  "Something  must  have  happened." 
And  a  resounding  kick  shook  the  panel. 

"Hold  on!"  I  cried.   "What's  wanted?" 

"Oh,"  said  Dicky  sarcastically.  "You've  come  to 
life  again,  have  you." 

"Well,  I'm  not  dead  yet." 

"Then  strike  a  light  and  let  us  in.  And  take  a 
look  at  that  reminder  you'll  find  wrapped  around  the 
rock  I  heaved  through  the  transom.  I  thought  it 


46  BLINDFOLDED 

was  open."   And  Dicky  went  off  into  another  series 
of  chuckles  in  appreciation  of  his  mistake. 

"All  right,"  I  said.  I  was  not  entirely  trustful, 
and  after  I  had  lighted  the  gas-jet  I  picked  up  the 
stone  that  lay  among  the  fragments  of  glass,  and 
unwrapped  the  paper.  The  sheet  bore  only  the 
words : 

"At  Borton's,  at  midnight. 

Richmond." 

This  was  the  name  of  the  agent  of  the  Unknown, 
who  had  sent  the  other  note.  Dicky  and  his  com 
panion  must  then  be  protectors  instead  of  enemies. 
I  hastened  to  unlock  the  door,  and  in  walked  my  two 
visitors. 

The  first  was  a  young  man,  tall,  well-made,  with 
a  shrewd,  good-humored  countenance,  and  a  ready, 
confident  air  about  him.  I  had  no  trouble  in  picking 
him  out  as  the  amused  Dicky.  The  other  was  a 
black-bearded  giant,  who  followed  stolidly  in  the 
wake  of  the  younger  man. 

"You've  led  me  a  pretty  chase,"  said  Dicky.  "If 
it  hadn't  been  for  Pork  Chops  here,  I  shouldn't  have 
found  you  till  the  cows  come  home." 

"Well,  what's  up  now?"  I  asked. 

"Why,  you  ought  to  know,"  said  Dicky  with  evi 
dent  surprise.  "But  you'd  better  be  hurrying  down 
to  Borton's.  The  gang  must  be  there  by  now." 

I  could  only  wonder  who  Borton  might  be,  and 
where  his  place  was,  and  what  connection  he  might 


A   NIGHT   AT    BORTON'S          47 

have  with  the  mystery,  as  Dicky  took  me  by  the  arm 
and  hurried  me  out  into  the  darkness.  The  chill 
night  air  served  to  nerve  instead  of  depress  my 
spirits,  as  the  garrulous  Dicky  unconsciously  guided 
me  to  the  meeting-place,  joyously  narrating  some 
amusing  adventure  of  the  day,  while  the  heavy  re 
tainer  stalked  in  silence  behind. 

Down  near  the  foot  of  Jackson  Street,  where  the 
smell  of  bilge-water  and  the  wash  of  the  sewers  grew 
stronger,  and  the  masts  of  vessels  could  just  be  seen 
in  the  darkness  outlined  against  the  sky,  Dicky  sud 
denly  stopped  and  drew  me  into  a  doorway.  Our  re 
tainer  disappeared  at  the  same  instant,  and  the  street 
was  apparently  deserted.  Then  out  of  the  night-  the 
shape  of  a  man  approached  with  silent  steps. 

"Five — sixteen,"  croaked  Dicky. 

The  man  gave  a  visible  start. 

"Sixteen — five,"  he  croaked  in  return. 

"Any  signs  ?"  whispered  Dicky, 

"Six  men  went  up  stairs  across  the  street.  Every 
one  of  them  did  the  sailor-drunk  act." 

"Sure  they  weren't  sailors?" 

"Well,  when  six  coves  goes  up  the  same  stairs 
trying  the  same  dodge,  all  inside  of  ten  minutes,  I 
has  a  right  to  my  suspicions.  And  Darby  Meeker 
ain't  been  to  sea  yet  that  I  knows  on." 

"Darby  Meeker!"  exclaimed  Dicky  in  a  whisper. 
And  he  drew  a  whistle  under  his  breath.  "What  do 
you  think  of  that,  Wilton?  I  had  no  idea  he  was 
back  from  that  wild-goose  chase  you  sent  him  on." 


48  BLINDFOLDED 

"It  looks  bad,"  I  admitted  cautiously.  "I  dare 
say  he  isn't  in  good  temper." 

"You'll  have  to  settle  with  him  for  that  piece  of 
business/'  said  Dicky  with  a  chuckle. 

I  failed  to  see  the  amusing  side  of  the  prospect.  I 
wished  I  knew  what  Mr.  Meeker  looked  like. 

The  guard  had  melted  away  into  the  darkness 
without  another  word,  and  we  hurried  forward  with 
due  caution.  Just  past  the  next  corner  was  a  lighted 
room,  and  the  sound  of  voices  broke  the  quiet.  A 
triangular  glass  lantern  projected  from  above  the 
door,  and  such  of  the  paint  as  had  not  weathered 
away  made  the  announcement : 


We  pushed  open  the  door  and  walked  in.  The 
room  was  large  and  dingy,  the  ceiling  low.  Tables 
were  scattered  about  the  sanded  floor.  A  bar  took 
up  the  side  of  the  room  next  the  entrance,  and  a 
general  air  of  disreputability  filled  the  place.  The 
only  attempts  at  ornament,  unless  the  arrangement 
of  various-colored  bottles  behind  the  bar  came  under 
that  head,  were  the  circles  and  festoons  of  dirty  cut 
paper  hanging  from  the  ceiling. 


A   NIGHT   AT   BORTON'S          49 

About  the  room,  some  at  the  tables,  some  at  the 
bar,  were  numbers  of  stout,  rough-looking  men, 
with  a  few  Greek  fishermen  and  two  or  three  sailors. 

Behind  the  bar  sat  a  woman  whose  appearance  in 
that  place  almost  startled  me.  She  might  have  been 
nearing  seventy,  and  a  hard  and  evil  life  had  left  its 
marks  on  her  bent  frame  and  her  gaunt  face.  Her 
leathery  cheeks  were  lined  deep,  and  a  hawk-like 
nose  emphasized  the  unpleasant  suggestions  con 
veyed  by  her  face  and  figure.  But  the  most  remark 
able  feature  about  her  was  her  eyes.  There  was  no 
trace  of  age  in  them.  Bright  and  keen  as  the  eyes 
of  a  rat,  they  gave  me  an  unpleasant  thrill  as  I  felt 
her  gaze  fixed  upon  me  when  I  entered  the  door, 
arm  in  arm  with  Dicky.  It  was  as  though  they  had 
pierced  me  through,  and  had  laid  bare  something 
I  would  have  concealed.  It  was  a  relief  to  pass  be 
yond  her  into  a  recessed  part  of  the  room  where  her 
gaze  might  waste  itself  on  the  back  of  my  head. 

"Mother  Borton's  up  late  to-night/'  said  Dicky 
thoughtfully,  as  he  ordered  wine. 

"You  can't  blame  her  for  thinking  that  this  crowd 
needs  watching,"  I  suggested  with  as  much  of  airi 
ness  as  I  could  throw  into  my  manner. 

Dicky  shook  his  head  for  a  second,  and  then  re 
sumed  his  light-hearted,  bantering  way.  Yet  I  could 
see  that  he  was  perplexed  and  anxious  about  some 
thing  that  had  come  to  his  attention  on  our  arrival. 

"You'll  not  want  to  attend  to  business  till  all  the 
boys  are  here?"  asked  Dicky. 


50  BLINDFOLDED 

"Not  unless  there's  something  to  be  done,"  I  re 
sponded  dryly. 

Dicky  gave  me  a  quick  glance. 

"Of  course,"  he  said  with  a  laugh  that  was  not 
quite  easy,  "not  unless  there's  something  to  be  done. 
But  I  thought  there  was  something." 

"You've  got  a  fine  mind  for  thinking,  Dicky,"  I 
replied.  "You'd  better  cultivate  it." 

"Well,  they  say  there's  nothing  like  society  for 
that  sort  of  cultivation,"  said  Dicky  with  another 
laugh.  "They  don't  say  what  kind,  but  I've  got  a 
pretty  good  stock  here  to  choose  from."  He  was  at 
his  ease  in  banter  again,  but  it  struck  unpleasantly 
on  me  that  there  was  something  behind. 

"Oh,  here's  a  queer  friend,"  he  said  suddenly, 
looking  to  the  door.  "I'd  better  speak  to  him  on  the 
matter  of  countersigns." 

"By  all  means,"  I  said,  turning  in  my  chair  to 
survey  the  new-comer. 

I  saw  the  face  for  an  instant.  The  man  wore  a 
sou'wester,  and  he  had  drawn  his  thick,  rough  coat 
up  as  though  he  would  hide  his  head  under  the 
collar.  Cheek  and  chin  I  could  see  were  covered  by 
a  thick  blond  beard.  His  movements  were  apparently 
clumsy,  but  his  figure  was  lithe  and  sinuous.  And 
his  eyes !  Once  seen  they  never  could  be  forgotten. 
At  their  glance,  beard  and  sou'wester  dropped  away 
before  my  fancy,  and  I  saw  in  my  inner  vision  the 
man  of  the  serpent  glance  who  had  chilled  my  spirit 
when  I  had  first  put  foot  in  the  city.  It  flashed  on 


ANIGHTATBORTON'S          51 

me  in  an  instant  that  this  was  the  same  man  dis 
guised,  who  had  ventured  into  the  midst  of  his 
enemies  to  see  what  he  might  learn  of  their  plans. 

As  I  watched  Dicky  advance  and  greet  the  new 
comer  with  apparent  inquiry,  a  low  harsh  voice  be 
hind  gave  me  a  start  of  surprise. 

"This  is  your  wine,  I  think," — and  a  lean,  wrin 
kled  arm  passed  over  my  shoulder,  and  a  wrinkled 
face  came  near  my  own. 

I  turned  quickly.  It  was  Mother  Borton,  leering 
at  me  \vith  no  apparent  interest  but  in  her  errand. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  asked  the  crone  in  a 
voice  still  lower.  "You're  not  the  one  they  take  you 
to  be,  but  you're  none  the  less  in  danger.  What  are 
you  doing  with  his  looks,  and  in  this  place?  Look 
out  for  that  man  you're  with,  and  the  other.  Yes, 
sir,"  her  voice  rose.  "A  small  bottle  of  the  white; 
in  a  minute,  sir." 

I  understood  her  as  Dicky  and  the  new-comer 
came  to  the  table  and  took  seats  opposite.  I  com 
manded  my  face  to  give  no  sign  of  suspicion,  but  the 
warning  put  me  on  the  alert.  I  had  come  on  the 
supposition  that  I  was  to  meet  the  band  to  which' 
Henry  Wilton  belonged.  Instead  of  being  among 
friends,  however,  it  seemed  now  that  I  was  among 
enemies. 

"It's  all  right,"  said  Dicky  carelessly.  "He's  been 
sent/' 

"That's  lucky,"  said  I  with  equal  unconcern. 
"We  may  need  an  extra  hand  before  morning." 


52  BLINDFOLDED 

The  new-comer  could  not  repress  a  triumphant 
flash  in  the  serpent  eyes. 

"I'm  the  one  for  your  job,"  he  said  hoarsely,  his 
face  as  impassive  as  a  stone  wall. 

"What  do  you  know  about  the  job?"  I  asked  sus 
piciously. 

"Only  what  I've  been  told,"  he  answered. 

"And  that  is—" 

"That  it's  a  job  for  silence,  secrecy,  and — " 

"Spondulicks,"  said  Dicky  with  a  laugh,  as  the 
other  hesitated  for  a  word. 

"Just  so,"  said  the  man. 

"And  what  else?"  I  continued,  pressing  him 
firmly. 

"Well,"  he  admitted  hoarsely,  "I  learned  as  how 
there  was  to  be  a  change  of  place  to-night,  and  I 
might  be  needed." 

I  looked  at  him  inquiringly.  Perhaps  I  was  on  the 
threshold  of  knowledge  of  this  cursed  business  from 
the  mouth  of  the  enemy. 

"I  heard  as  how  the  boy  was  to  be  put  in  a  safer 
place,"  he  said,  wagging  his  head  with  affected 
gravity. 

Some  imp  put  it  into  my  brain  to  try  him  with  an 
unexpected  bit  of  news. 

"Oh,"  I  said  coolly,  "that's  all  attended  to.  The 
change  was  made  yesterday." 

The  effect  of  this  announcement  was  extraordi 
nary.  The  man  started  with  an  oath. 

"The  hell  you   say!"   he   exclaimed   in   a  low, 


A   NIGHT   AT   BORTON'S          53 

smooth  voice,  far  different  from  the  harsh  tone  he 
had  used  thus  far.  Then  he  leaped  to  his  feet,  with 
uncontrollable  rage. 

'Tricked — by  God!"  he  shouted  impulsively,  and 
smote  the  table  with  his  fist. 

His  outburst  threw  the  room  into  confusion.  Men 
sprang  from  their  chairs.  Glasses  and  bottles  fell 
with  clinking  crash.  Oaths  and  shouts  arose  from 
the  crowd. 

"Damn  you,  I'll  have  it  out  of  you!"  said  the  man 
with  suppressed  fury,  his  voice  once  again  smooth 
and  low.  "Where  is  the  boy  ?" 

He  smote  the  table  again;  and  with  that  stroke 
the  false  beard  fell  from  his  chin  and  cheek,  and  ex 
posed  the  malignant  face,  distorted  with  rage.  A 
feeling  of  horrible  repulsion  came  over  me,  and  I 
should  have  struck  at  that  serpent's  head  but  for  a 
startling  occurrence.  As  he  spoke,  a  wild  scream 
rose  upon  the  air,  and  as  it  echoed  through  the  room 
the  lights  went  out. 

The  scream  was  repeated,  and  after  an  instant's 
silence  there  rose  a  chorus  of  shouts  and  oaths, 
mingled  with  the  crash  of  tables  and  the  clink  of 
breaking  glass  and  crockery,  as  the  men  in  the  room 
fought  their  way  to  the  door. 

"Oh,  my  God,  I'm  cut!"  came  in  a  shriek  out  of 
the  darkness  and  clamor;  and  there  followed  the 
flash  of  a  pistol  and  a  report  that  boomed  like  a 
cannon  in  that  confined  place. 

My  eyes  had  not  been  idle  after  the  warning  of 


54  BLINDFOLDED 

Mother  Borton,  and  in  an  instant  I  had  decided 
what  to  do.  I  had  figured  out  what  I  conceived  to 
be  the  plan  of  the  house,  and  thought  I  knew  a  way 
of  escape.  There  were  two  doors  at  the  rear  of  the 
room,  and  facing  me.  One  led,  as  I  knew,  to  the 
kitchen ;  the  other  opened,  I  reasoned,  on  a  stair  to 
the  lodging-rooms  above. 

Before  the  scream  that  accompanied  the'  extinc 
tion  of  the  lights  had  died  away,  I  had  made  a  dive 
beneath  the  table,  and,  lifting  with  all  my  might, 
had  sent  it  crashing  over  with  my  enemy  under  it. 
With  one  leap  I  cleared  the  remaining  table  that  lay 
between  me  and  the  door.  And  with  the  clamor  be 
hind  me,  I  turned  the  knob  and  bounded  up  the 
stairs,  three  steps  at  a  time. 


CHAPTER  VII 

MOTHER   BORTON 

The  noise  of  the  struggle  below  continued.  Yells 
and  curses  rose  from  the  maddened  men.  Three 
shots  were  fired  in  quick  succession,  and  a  cry  of 
"Oh,  my  Lord !"  penetrated  through  the  closed  door 
with  the  sound  of  one  sorely  hurt. 

I  lingered  for  a  little,  listening  to  the  tumult.  I 
was  in  a  strange  and  dangerous  position.  Enemies 
were  behind  me.  There  were  friends,  too,  but  I 
knew  no  way  to  tell  one  from  the  other,  and  my 
ignorance  had  nearly  brought  me  to  my  death.  I 
hesitated  to  move,  but  I  could  not  remain  in  the  open 
hall;  and  as  the  sounds  of  disturbance  from  below 
subsided,  I  felt  my  way  along  the  wall  and  moved 
cautiously  forward. 

I  had  progressed  perhaps  twenty  steps  when  a 
door,  against  which  my  hand  pressed,  yielded  at  the 
touch  and  swung  slowly  open.  I  strove  to  stop  it, 
for  the  first  opening  showed  a  dim  light  within.  But 
the  panel  gave  no  hold  for  my  fingers,  and  my  ef 
forts  to  close  the  door  only  swung  it  open  the  faster. 
I  drew  back  a  little  into  the  shadow,  for  I  hesitated 
to  dash  past  the  sight  of  any  who  might  occupy  the 
room. 

55 


56  BLINDFOLDED 

"Come  in !"  called  a  harsh  voice. 

I  hesitated.  Behind,  the  road  led  to  the  eating- 
room  with  its  known  dangers.  A  dash  along  the 
hall  for  the  front  door  meant  the  raising  of  an 
alarm,  and  probably  a  bullet  as  a  discourager  of 
burglary.  Should  I  escape  this,  I  could  be  certain 
of  a  warm  reception  from  the  enemies  on  watch 
outside.  Prudence  lay  in  facing  the  one  rather  than 
risking  the  many.  I  accepted  the  invitation  and 
walked  into  the  room. 

"I  was  expecting  you,"  said  the  harsh  voice  com 
posedly.  "Good  evening." 

"Good  evening,"  I  returned  gravely,  swallowing 
my  amazement  as  best  I  could. 

By  the  table  before  me  sat  Mother  Borton,  con 
templating  me  as  calmly  as  though  this  meeting 
were  the  most  commonplace  thing  in  the  world.  A 
candle  furnished  a  dim,  flickering  light  that  gave  to 
her  hard  wicked  countenance  a  diabolic  leer  that 
struck  a  chill  to  my  blood. 

"Excuse  me,"  I  said,  "I  have  lost  my  way,  I 
fear." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Mother  Borton.  "You  are  in 
the  right  place." 

"I  was  afraid  I  had  intruded,"  I  said  apologeti 
cally. 

"I  expected  you,"  she  repeated.   "Shut  the  door." 

I  glanced  about  the  room.  There  was  no  sign  of 
another  person  to  be  seen,  and  no  other  door.  I 
obeyed  her. 


M  OTHER   BORTON  57 

"You  might  as  well  sit  down,"  she  said  with  some 
petulance.  "There's  nothing  up  here  to  hurt  you." 
There  was  so  much  meaning  in  her  tone  of  the 
things  that  would  hurt  me  on  the  floor  below  that  I 
hastened  to  show  my  confidence  in  her,  and  drew  up 
a  chair  to  the  table. 

"At  your  service,"  I  said,  leaning  before  hei 
with  as  much  an  appearance  of  jaunty  self-posses 
sion  as  I  could  muster. 

"Who  are  you,  and  what  are  you  doing  here  ?"  she 
risked  grimly. 

What  should  I  answer?  Could  I  tell  her  the 
truth  ? 

"Who  are  you?"  she  repeated  impatiently,  gazing 
on  me.  "You  are  not  Wilton.  Tell  me.  Who  are 
yott?" 

The  face,  hard  as  it  was,  seamed  wTith  the  record 
of  a  rough  and  evil  life,  as  it  appeared,  had  yet  a 
kindly  look  as  it  was  turned  on  me. 

"My  name  is  Dudley, — Giles  Dudley." 

"Where  is  Wilton?" 

"Dead." 

"Dead?  Did  you  kill  him?"  The  half-kindly  look'' 
disappeared  from  her  eyes,  and  the  hard  lines  set 
tled  into  an  expression  of  malevolent  repulsiveness. 

"He  was  my  best  friend,"  I  said  sadly;  and  then 
I  described  the  leading  events  of  the  tragedy  I  had 
witnessed. 

The  old  woman  listened  closely,  and  with  hardly 
the  movement  of  a  muscle,  to  the  tale  I  told. 


58  BLINDFOLDED 

"And  you  think  he  left  his  job  to  you?"  she  said 
with  a  sneer. 

"I  have  taken  it  up  as  well  as  I  can.  To  be  frank 
with  you,  Mrs.  Borton,  I  know  nothing  about  his 
job.  I'm  going  along  on  blind  chance,  and  trying  to 
keep  a  whole  skin." 

The  old  woman  looked  at  me  in  amazement. 

"Poor  boy!"  she  exclaimed  half-pityingly,  half- 
admiringly.  "You  put  your  hands  to  a  job  you 
know  nothing  about,  when  Henry  Wilton  couldn't 
carry  it  with  all  his  wits  about  him." 

"I  didn't  do  it,"  said  I  sullenly.  "It  has  done  it 
self.  Everybody  insists  that  I'm  Wilton.  If  I'm  to 
have  my  throat  slit  for  him  I  might  as  well  try  to  do 
his  work.  I  wish  to  Heaven  I  knew  what  it  was, 
though." 

Mother  Borton  leaned  her  head  on  her  hand,  and 
gazed  on  me  thoughtfully  for  a  full  minute. 

"Young  man,"  said  she  impressively,  "take  my 
advice.  There's  a  train  for  the  East  in  the  mornin'. 
Just  git  on  board,  and  never  you  stop  short  of  Chi 
cago." 

"I'm  not  running  away,"  said  I  bitterly.  "I've 
got  a  score  to  settle  with  the  man  who  killed  Henry 
Wilton.  When  that  score  is  settled,  I'll  go  to  Chi 
cago  or  anywhere  else.  Until  that's  done,  I  stay 
where  I  can  settle  it." 

Mother  Borton  caught  up  the  candle  and  moved 
it  back  and  forth  before  my  face.  In  her  eyes  there 
was  a  gleam  of  savage  pleasure. 


Mother  Borton  moved  the  candle  back  and  forth  before  my  face 

See  page  58 


M  OTHER   BORTON  59 

"By  God,  he's  in  earnest!"  she  said  to  herself, 
with  a  strange  laugh.  "Tell  me  again  of  the  man 
you  saw  in  the  alley." 

I  described  Doddridge  Knapp. 

"And  you  are  going  to  get  even  with  him?"  she 
said  with  a  chuckle  that  had  no  mirth  in  it. 

"Yes,"  said  I  shortly. 

"Why,  if  you  should  touch  him  the  people  of  the 
city  would  tear  you  to  pieces." 

"I  shall  not  touch  him.  I'm  no  assassin!"  I  ex 
claimed  indignantly.  "The  law  shall  take  him,  and 
I'll  see  him  hanged  as  high  as  Haman." 

Mother  Borton  gave  a  low  gurgling  laugh. 

"The  law!  oh,  my  liver, — the  law!  How  young 
you  are,  my  boy !  Oh,  ho,  oh  ho !"  And  again  she 
absorbed  her  mirthless  laugh,  and  gave  me  an  evil 
grin.  Then  she  became  grave  again,  and  laid  a  claw 
on  my  sleeve.  "Take  my  advice  now,  and  git  on  the 
train." 

"Not  I !"  I  returned  stoutly. 

"I'm  doing  it  for  your  own  good,"  she  said,  with 
as  near  an  approach  to  a  coaxing  tone  as  she  could 
command.  It  was  long  since  she  had  used  her  voice 
for  such  a  purpose  and  it  grated.  "For  my  sake  I'd 
like  to  see  you  go  on  and  wipe  out  the  whole  raft 
of  'em.  But  I  know  what'll  happen  to  ye,  honey. 
I've  took  a  fancy  to  ye.  I  don't  know  why.  But 
there's  a  look  on  your  face  that  carries  me  back  for 
forty  years,  and — don't  try  it,  dearie." 

There  were  actually  tears  in  the  creature's  eyes, 


60  BLINDFOLDED 

and  her  hard,  wicked  face  softened,  and  became  al 
most  tender  and  womanly. 

"I  can't  give  up,"  I  said.  "The  work  is  put  on 
me.  But  can't  you  help  me  ?  I  believe  you  want  to. 
I  trust  you.  Tell  me  what  to  do — where  I  stand. 
I'm  all  in  the  dark,  but  I  must  do  my  work." 

It  was  the  best  appeal  I  could  have  made. 

"You're  right,"  she  said.  "I'm  an  old  fool,  and 
you've  got  the  real  sand.  You're  the  first  one  ex 
cept  Henry  Wilton  that's  trusted  me  in  forty  years, 
and  you  won't  be  sorry  for  it,  my  boy.  You  owe 
me  one,  now.  Where  would  you  have  been  to-night 
if  I  hadn't  had  the  light  doused  on  ye?" 

"Oh,  that  was  your  doing,  was  it  ?  I  thought  my 
time  had  come." 

"Oh,  I  was  sure  you'd  know  what  to  do.  It  was 
your  best  chance." 

"Then  will  you  help  me,  now  ?" 

The  old  crone  considered,  and  her  face  grew 
sharp  and  cunning  in  its  look. 

"What  can  I  do?" 

"Tell  me,  in  God's  name,  where  I  stand.  What  is 
this  dreadful  mystery?  Who  is  this  boy?  Why  is 
he  hidden,  and  why  do  these  people  want  to  know 
where  he  is?  Who  is  behind  me,  and  who  threatens 
me  with  death  ?" 

I  burst  out  with  these  questions  passionately,  al 
most  frantically.  This  was  the  first  time  I  had  had 
chance  to  demand  them  of  another  human  being. 

Mother  Borton  gave  me  a  leer, 


M  OTHER   BORTON  61 

"I  wish  I  could  tell  you,  my  dear,  but  I  don't 
know." 

"You  mean  you  dare  not  tell  me/'  I  said  boldly. 
"You  have  done  me  a  great  service,  but  if  I  am  to 
save  myself  from  the  dangers  that  surround  me  I 
must  know  more.  Can't  you  see  that?" 

"Yes,"  she  nodded.  "You're  in  a  hard  row  of 
stumps,  young  man." 

"And  you  can  help  me." 

"Well,  I  will,"  she  said,  suddenly  softening  again. 
"I  took  a  shine  to  you  when  you  came  in,  an'  I  says 
to  myself,  'I'll  save  that  young  fellow,'  an'  I  done  it. 
And  I'll  do  more.  Mr.  Wilton  was  a  fine  gentleman, 
an'  I'd  do  something,  if  I  could,  to  git  even  with 
those  murderin'  gutter-pickers  that  laid  him  out  on 
a  slab." 

She  hesitated,  and  looked  around  at  the  shadows 
thrown  by  the  flickering  candle. 

"Well?"  I  said  impatiently.  "Who  is  the  boy, 
and  where  is  he  ?" 

"Never  you  mind  that,  young  fellow.  Let  me  tell 
you  what  I  know.  Then  maybe  we'll  have  time  to 
go  into  the  things  I  don't  know." 

It  \vas  of  no  use  to  urge  her.  I  bowed  my  assent 
to  her  terms. 

"I'll  name  no  names,"  she  said.  "My  throat  can 
be  cut  as  quick  as  yours,  and  maybe  a  damned  sight 
quicker." 

Mother  Borton  had  among  her  failings  a  weak 
ness  for  profanity.  I  have  omitted  most  of  her 


62  BLINDFOLDED 

references  to  sacred  and  other  subjects  of  the  kind 
in  transcribing  her  remarks. 

'The  ones  that  has  the  boy  means  all  right. 
They're  rich.  The  ones  as  is  looking  for  the  boy  is 
all  wrong.  They'll  be  rich  if  they  gits  him." 

"How?" 

"Why,  I  don't  know,"  said  Mother  Borton.  "I'm 
tellin'  you  what  Henry  Wilton  told  me." 

This  was  maddening.  I  began  to  suspect  that  she 
knew  nothing  after  all. 

"Do  you  know  where  he  is?"  I  asked,  taking  the 
questioning  into  my  own  hands. 

"No,"— sullenly. 

"Who  is  protecting  him?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Who  is  trying  to  get  him  ?" 

"It's  that  snake-eyed  Tom  Terrill  that's  leading 
the  hunt,  along  with  Darby  Meeker;  but  they  ain't 
doing  it  for  themselves." 

"Is  Doddridge  Knapp  behind  them  ?" 

The  old  woman  looked  at  me  suddenly  in  wild- 
eyed  alarm. 

"S-s-h !"  she  whispered.   "Don't  name  no  names." 

"But  I  saw—" 

She  put  her  hand  over  my  mouth. 

"He's  in  it  somewhere,  or  the  devil  is,  but  I  don't 
know  where.  He's  an  awful  man.  He's  everywhere 
at  once.  He's — oh  Lord !  What  was  that  ?''' 

I  had  become  infected  with  her  nervousness,  and 
at  a  cracking  or  creaking  sound  turned  around  with 


M  OTHER   BORTON  63 

half  an  expectation  of  seeing  Doddridge  Knapp  him 
self  coming  in  the  door. 

There  was  no  one  there — nothing  to  be  seen  but 
the  flickering  shadows,  and  no  sound  broke  the  still 
ness  as  we  listened. 

"It's  nothing,"  I  said. 

"I  reckon  I  ain't  got  no  call  to  be  scared  at  any 
crackings  in  this  old  house,"  said  Mother  Borton 
with  a  nervous  giggle.  "I've  hearn  'em  long  enough. 
But  that  man's  name  gives  me  the  shivers." 

"What  did  he  ever  do  to  you?"  I  asked  with  some 
curiosity. 

"He  never  did  nothing,"  she  said,  "but  I  hearn 
tell  dreadful  things  that's  gone  on  of  nights, — how 
Doddridge  Knapp  or  his  ghost  was  seen  killing  a 
Chinaman  over  at  North  Beach,  while  Doddridge 
Knapp  or  his  ghost, — whichever  was  the  other  one, 
— was  speaking  at  a  meeting,  at  the  Pavilion.  And 
I  hearn  of  his  drinkin'  blood — " 

"Nonsense!"  said  I;  "where  did  you  get  such 
stories?" 

"Well,  they're  told  me  for  true,  and  by  ones  I  be 
lieve,"  she  said  stoutly.  "Oh,  there's  queer  things 
goes  on.  Doddridge  Knapp  or  the  devil,  it's  all  one. 
But  it's  ill  saying  things  of  them  that  can  be  in  two 
places  at  once."  And  the  old  dame  looked  nervously 
about  her.  "They've  hushed  things  up  in  the  papers, 
and  fixed  the  police,  but  people  have  tongues." 

I  wondered  what  mystification  had  given  rise  to 
these  absurd  reports,  but  there  was  nothing  to  be 


64  BLINDFOLDED 

gained  by  pursuing  them.  The  killing  of  the  China 
man  might  have  been  something  to  my  hand,  but  if 
Doddridge  Knapp  had  such  a  perfect  alibi  it  was  a 
waste  of  time  to  look  into  it. 

"And  is  this  all  you  know?"  I  asked  in  disap 
pointment. 

Mother  Borton  tried  to  remember  some  other 
point. 

"I  don't  see  how  it's  going  to  keep  a  knife  from 
between  my  ribs/'  I  complained. 

"You  keep  out  of  the  way  of  Tom  Terrill  and  his 
hounds,  and  you'll  be  all  right,  I  reckon." 

"Am  I  supposed  to  be  the  head  man  in  this  busi 
ness?" 

"Yes." 

"Who  are  my  men?" 

"There's  Wilson  and  Fitzhugh  and  Port  T  and 
Brown,"  and  she  named  ten  or  a  dozen  more. 

"And  what  is  Dicky?" 

"It's  a  smart  man  as  can  put  his  finger  on  Dicky 
Nahl,"  said  Mother  Borton  spitefully. 

"Nahl  is  his  name?" 

"Yes.  And  I've  seen  him  hobnob  with  Henry 
Wilton,  and  I've  seen  him  thick  as  thieves  with  Tom 
Terrill,  and  which  he's  thickest  with  the  devil  him 
self  couldn't  tell.  I  call  him  Slippery  Dicky." 

"Why  did  he  bring  me  here  to-night?" 

"I  hearn  there's  orders  come  to  change  the  place 
— the  boy's  place,  you  know.  You  was  to  tell  'em 
where  the  new  one  was  to  be,  I  reckon,  but  Tom 


M  OTHER   BORTON  65 

Terrill  spoiled  things.  He's  lightning,  is  Tom  Ter- 
rill.  But  I  guess  he  got  it  all  out  of  Dicky,  though 
where  Dicky  got  it  the  Lord  only  knows." 

This  was  all  that  was  to  be  had  from  Mother 
Borton.  Either  she  knew  no  more,  or  she  was  sharp 
enough  to  hide  a  knowledge  that  might  be  danger 
ous,  even  fatal,  to  reveal.  She  was  willing  to  serve 
me,  and  I  was  forced  to  let  it  pass  that  she  knew 
no  more. 

"Well,  I'd  better  be  going  then,"  said  I  at  last. 
"It's  nearly  four  o'clock,  and  everything  seems  to 
be  quiet  hereabouts.  I'll  find  my  way  to  my  room." 

"You'll  do  no  such  thing,"  said  Mother  Borton. 
"They've  not  given  up  the  chase  yet.  Your  men 
have  gone  home,  I  reckon,  but  I'll  bet  the  saloon 
that  you'd  have  a  surprise  before  you  got  to  the 
corner." 

"Not  a  pleasant  prospect,"  said  I  grimly. 

"No.  You  must  stay  here.  The  room  next  to 
this  one  is  just  the  thing  for  you.  See?" 

She  drew  me  into  the  adjoining  room,  shading 
the  candle  as  we  passed  through  the  hall  that  no 
gleam  might  fall  where  it  would  attract  attention. 

"You'll  be  safe  here,"  she  said.  "Now  do  as  I 
say.  Go  to  sleep  and  git  some  rest.  You  ain't  had 
much,  I  guess,  since  you  got  to  San  Francisco." 

The  room  was  cheerless,  but  in  the  circumstances 
the  advice  appeared  good.  I  was  probably  safer  here 
than  in  the  street,  and  I  needed  the  rest. 

"Good  night,"  said  my  strange  protectress.   "You 


66  BLINDFOLDED 

needn't  git  up  till  you  git  ready.  This  is  a  beautiful 
room — beautiful.  I  call  it  our  bridal  chamber, 
though  we  don't  get  no  brides  down  here.  There 
won't  be  no  sun  to  bother  your  eyes  in  the  mornin', 
for  that  window  don't  open  up  outside.  So  there 
can't  nobody  git  in  unless  he  comes  from  inside  the 
house.  There,  git  to  bed.  Look  out  you  don't  set 
fire  to  nothing.  And  put  out  the  candle.  Now 
good  night,  dearie." 

Mother  Borton  closed  the  door  behind  her,  and 
left  me  to  the  shadows. 

Her  departure  did  not  leave  me  wholly  at  my 
ease.  I  had  escaped  from  my  foes,  but  I  was  no 
closer  to  being  in  touch  with  those  who  would  be 
my  friends;  and  before  daylight  I  might  be  lying 
here  with  my  throat  slit.  At  the  reflection  I  hastily 
bolted  the  door,  and  tried  the  fastenings  of  the  win 
dow.  All  seemed  secure,  but  the  sound  of  a  foot 
step  in  the  passageway  gave  me  a  start  for  an  in 
stant. 

"Only  Mother  Borton  going  down  stairs,"  I 
thought,  with  a  smile  at  my  fears. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  sitting  up,  and 
the  candle  was  past  its  final  inch.  I  felt  that  I  could 
not  sleep,  but  I  would  lie  down  on  the  bed  and  rest 
my  tired  limbs,  that  I  might  refresh  myself  for  the 
demands  of  the  day.  I  kicked  off  my  boots,  put  my 
revolver  under  my  hand,  and  lay  down. 

Heedless  of  Mother  Borton's  warning  I  left  the 
candle  to  burn  to  the  socket,  and  watched  the  flicker- 


MOTHER  BORTQN  67 

ing  shadows  chase  each  other  over  walls  and  ceil 
ing.  The  shadows  grew  larger  and  blacker,  and 
took  fantastic  shapes  of  men  and  beasts.  And  then 
with  a  confused  impression  of  deadly  fear  and  of  an 
effort  to  escape  from  peril,  a  blacker  shadow  swal 
lowed  up  all  that  had  gone  before,  and  carried  me 
with  it. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN   WHICH   I   MEET  A  FEW  SURPRISES 

I  awoke  with  the  sense  of  threatened  danger 
strong  in  my  mind.  For  a  moment  I  was  unable  to 
recall  where  I  was,  or  on  what  errand  I  had  come. 
Then  memory  returned  in  a  flood,  and  I  sprang 
from  the  bed  and  peered  about  me. 

A  dim  light  struggled  in  from  the  darkened  win 
dow,  but  no  cause  for  apprehension  could  be  seen. 
I  was  the  only  creature  that  breathed  the  air  of  that 
bleak  and  dingy  room. 

I  drew  aside  the  curtain,  and  threw  up  the  win 
dow.  It  opened  merely  on  a  light-well,  and  the 
blank  walls  beyond  gave  back  the  cheery  reflection 
of  a  patch  of  sunlight  that  fell  at  an  angle  from 
above. 

The  fresher  air  that  crept  in  from  the  window 
cleared  my  mind,  a  dash  of  water  refreshed  my 
body,  and  I  was  ready  once  more  to  face  whatever 
might  befall. 

I  looked  at  my  watch.  It  was  eight  o'clock,  and  I 
had  slept  four  hours  in  this  place,  Truly  I  had  been 
imprudent  after  my  adventure  below,  but  I  had  been 
right  in  trusting  Mother  Borton.  Then  I  began  to 

68 


I    MEET   A    FEW    SURPRISES      69 

realize  that  I  was  outrageously  hungry,  and  I  re 
membered  that  I  should  be  at  the  office  by  nine 
to  receive  the  commands  of  Doddridge  Knapp, 
should  he  choose  to  send  them. 

I  threw  back  the  bolt,  but  when  I  tried  to  swing 
the  door  open  it  resisted  my  efforts.  The  key  had 
been  missing  when  I  closed  it,  but  a  sliding  bolt 
had  fastened  it  securely.  NOWT  I  saw  that  the  door 
was  locked. 

Here  was  a  strange  predicament.  I  had  heard 
nothing  of  the  noise  of  the  key  before  I  lost  myself 
in  slumber.  Mother  Borton  must  have  turned  it  as 
an  additional  precaution  as  I  slept.  But  how  was 
I  to  get  out  ?  I  hesitated  to  make  a  noise  that  could 
attract  attention.  It  might  bring  some  one  less 
kindly  disposed  than  my  hostess  of  the  night.  But 
there  was  no  other  way.  I  was  trapped,  and  must 
take  the  risk  of  summomng  assistance. 

I  rapped  on  the  panel  and  listened.  No  sound  re 
warded  me.  I  rapped  again  more  vigorously,  but 
only  silence  followed.  The  house  might  have  been 
the  grave  for  all  the  signs  of  life  it  gave  back. 

There  was  something  ominous  about  it.  To  be 
locked,  thus,  in  a  dark  room  of  this  house  in  which 
I  had  already  been  attacked,  was  enough  to  shake 
my  spirit  and  resolution  for  the  moment.  What  lay 
without  the  door,  my  apprehension  asked  me.  Was 
it  part  of  the  plot  to  get  the  secret  it  was  supposed 
I  held  ?  Had  Mother  Borton  been  murdered,  and  the 
house  seized?  Or  had  Mother  Borton  played  me 


70  BLINDFOLDED 

false,  and  was  I  now  a  prisoner  to  my  own  party 
for  my  enforced  imposture,  as  one  who  knew  too 
much  to  be  left  at  large  and  too  little  to  be  of  use? 
On  a  second  and  calmer  thought  it  was  evidently 
folly  to  bring  my  jailers  about  my  ears,  if  jailers 
there  were.  I  abandoned  my  half-formed  plan  of 
breaking  down  the  door,  and  turned  to  the  window 
and  the  light-well.  Another  window  faced  on  the 
same  space,  not  five  feet  away.  If  it  were  but 
opened  I  might  swing  myself  over  and  through  it; 
but  it  was  closed,  and  a  curtain  hid  the  unknown 
possibilities  and  dangers  of  the  interior.  A  dozen 
feet  above  was  the  roof,  with  no  projection  or  foot 
hold  by  which  it  might  be  reached.  Below,  the  light- 
well  ended  in  a  tinned  floor,  about  four  feet  from 
the  window  sill. 

I  swung  myself  down,  and  with  two  steps  was 
trying  the  other  window.  It  was  unlocked.  I  raised 
the  sash  cautiously,  but  its  creaking  protest  seemed 
to  my  excited  ears  to  be  loud  enough  to  wake  any 
but  the  dead.  I  stopped  and  listened  after  each 
squeak  of  the  frame.  There  was  no  sign  of  move 
ment. 

Then  I  pushed  aside  the  curtain  cautiously,  and 
looked  within.  The  room  appeared  absolutely  bare. 
Gaining  confidence  at  the  sight,  I  threw  the  cur 
tain  farther  back,  and  with  a  bound  climbed  in,  re 
volver  in  hand. 

A  scurrying  sound  startled  me  for  an  instant,  and 
with  a  scramble  I  gained  my  feet,  prepared  to  face 


I    MEET   A    FEW    SURPRISES      71 

whatever  was  before  me.  Then  I  saw  the  disappear 
ing  form  of  a  great  rat,  and  laughed  at  my  fears. 

The  room  was,  as  I  had  thought,  bare  and  de 
serted.  There  was  a  musty  smell  about  it,  as  though 
it  had  not  been  opened  for  a  long  time,  and  dust 
and  desolation  lay  heavy  upon  it.  A  dark  stain 
on  the  floor  near  the  window  suggested  to  my  fancy 
the  idea  of  blood.  Had  some  wayfarer  less  fortu 
nate  than  I  been  inveigled  to  his  death  in  this  evil 
place  ? 

There  was,  however,  nothing  here  to  linger  for, 
and  I  hastened  to  try  the  door.  It  was  locked.  I 
stooped  to  examine  the  fastening.  It  was  of  the 
cheapest  kind,  attached  to  door  and  casement  by 
small  screws.  With  a  good  wrench  it  gave  way, 
and  I  found  myself  in  a  dark  side-hall  between  two 
rooms.  Three  steps  brought  me  to  the  main  hall,  and 
I  recognized  it  for  the  same  through  which  I  had 
felt  my  way  in  the  darkness  of  the  night.  It  was 
not  improved  by  the  daylight,  and  a  strange  lone 
liness  about  it  was  an  oppression  to  the  spirits. 
There  were  six  or  eight  rooms  on  the  floor,  and  the 
doors  glowered  threateningly  on  me,  as  though 
they  were  conscious  that  I  was  an  intruder  in  fear 
of  his  life. 

The  intense  stillness  within  the  house,  instead  of 
reassuring  me,  served  as  a  threat.  After  my  ex 
perience  of  the  night,  it  spoke  of  treachery,  not  of 
peace. 

I  took  my  steps  cautiously  down  the  stairs,  fol- 


72  BLINDFOLDED 

lowing  the  way  that  led  to  the  side  entrance.  The 
saloon  and  restaurant  room  I  was  anxious  to  evade, 
for  there  would  doubtless  be  a  barkeeper  and  several 
loiterers  about.  It  could  not  be  avoided,  however. 
As  I  neared  the  bottom  of  the  stairs,  I  saw  that  a 
door  led  from  the  hallway  to  the  saloon,  and  that 
it  was  open. 

I  moved  slowly  down,  a  step  at  a  time,  then  from 
over-cautiousness  tripped  and  came  down  the  last 
three  steps  at  once  with  the  clatter  of  a  four-horse 
team. 

But  nobody  stirred.  Then  I  glanced  through  the 
open  door,  and  was  stricken  cold  with  astonish 
ment.  The  room  was  empty! 

The  chairs  and  tables  that  a  few  hours  ago  I  had 
seen  scattered  about  were  gone.  There  was  no  sign 
that  the  place  had  been  occupied  in  months. 

I  stepped  into  the  room  that  I  had  seen  crowded 
with  eager  friends  and  enemies,  eating,  drinking, 
ready  for  desperate  deeds.  My  step  echoed  strangely 
with  the  echo  of  an  untenanted  house.  The  bar  and 
the  shelves  behind  it  were  swept  clear  of  the  bottles 
and  glasses  that  had  filled  them.  Dust  was  thick 
over  the  floor  and  walls.  The  windows  were  stained 
and  dirty,  and  a  paper  sign  on  each  pane  informed 
the  passers-by  that  the  house  was  "To  Let." 

Bewildered  and  apprehensive,  I  wondered 
whether,  after  all,  the  events  of  the  night,  the  sum 
mons  from  Dicky  Nahl,  the  walk  in  the  darkness, 
the  scene  in  the  saloon,  the  encounter  with  the 


I    MEET   A    FEW    SURPRISES      73 

snake-eyed  man,  the  riot,  the  rush  up  the  dark 
stair,  and  the  interview  with  the  old  crone,  were 
not  a  fantastic  vision  from  the  land  of  dreams. 

I  looked  cautiously  through  the  other  rooms  on 
the  first  floor.  They  were  as  bare  as  the  main  room. 
The  only  room  in  the  whole  house  that  held  a  trace 
of  furniture  or  occupancy  must  be  the  one  from 
which  I  had  escaped.  It  seemed  that  an  elaborate 
trap  had  been  set  for  my  benefit  with  such  precau 
tions  that  I  could  not  prove  that  it  ever  had  been. 

There  was,  however,  no  time  to  waste  in  prying 
into  this  mystery.  By  my  watch  it  was  close  on  nine 
o'clock,  and  Doddridge  Knapp  might  even  now  be 
making  his  way  to  the  office  where  he  had  stationed 
me. 

The  saloon's  front  doors  were  locked  fast,  but 
die  side  door  that  led  from  the  stairway  to  the  street 
was  fastened  only  with  a  spring  lock,  and  I  swung 
it  open  and  stepped  to  the  sidewalk. 

A  load  left  my  spirits  as  the  door  closed  behind 
me.  The  fresh  air  of  the  morning  was  like  wine 
after  the  close  and  musty  atmosphere  I  had  been 
breathing. 

The  street  was  but  a  prosaic  place  after  the  haunt 
of  mystery  I  had  just  left.  It  was  like  stepping 
from  the  Dark  Ages  into  the  nineteenth  century. 
Yet  there  was  something  puzzling  about  it.  The 
street  had  no  suggestion  of  the  familiar,  and  it  ap 
peared  somehow  to  have  been  turned  end  for  end. 
I  had  lost  my  sense  of  direction.  The  hills  were 


74  BLINDFOLDED 

where  the  bay  ought  to  be.  I  seemed  to  have 
changed  sides  of  the  street,  and  it  took  me  a  little 
time  to  readjust  the  points  of  the  compass.  I  rea 
soned  at  last  that  Dicky  Nahl  had  led  me  to  the 
street  below  before  turning  to  the  place,  and  I  had 
not  noticed  that  we  had  doubled  on  our  course. 

I  hurried  along  the  streets  with  but  a  three- 
minute  stop  to  swallow  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  roll, 
and  once  more  mounted  the  stairs  to  the  office  and 
opened  the  door  to  Number  15. 

The  place  was  in  disorder.  The  books  that  had 
been  arranged  on  the  desk  and  shelves  were  now 
scattered  about  in  confusion,  as  though  they  had 
been  hurriedly  examined  and  thrown  aside  in  a  fruit 
less  search.  This  was  a  disturbing  incident,  and  I 
was  surprised  to  discover  that  the  door  into  the  ad 
joining  room  was  ajar.  I  pushed  it  wide  open,  and 
started  back.  Before  me  stood  Doddridge  Knapp, 
his  face  pale  as  the  face  of  a  corpse,  and  his  eyes 
starting  as  though  the  dead  had  risen  before  him. 


CHAPTER  IX 

A    DAY    IN    THE    MARKET 

The  King  of  the  Street  stood  for  a  moment  star 
ing  at  me  with  that  strange  and  fearsome  gaze. 
What  was  there  in  that  dynamic  glance  that  struck 
a  chill  to  my  spirit  as  though  the  very  fountain  of 
life  had  been  attacked  ?  Was  it  the  manifestation  of 
the  powerful  will  behind  that  mask?  Or  was  it 
terror  or  anger  that  was  to  be  read  in  the  fiery  eyes 
that  gleamed  from  beneath  those  bushy  brows,  and 
in  the  play  of  the  cruel  mouth,  which  from  under 
that  yellow-gray  mustache  gave  back  the  sign  of 
the  Wolf? 

"Have  you  any  orders,  sir?"  I  asked  in  as  calm  a 
voice  as  I  could  command. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  is  it?"  said  the  Wolf  slowly,  cover 
ing  his  fangs. 

It  flashed  on  me  that  the  attack  in  the  Borton 
den  was  of  his  planning,  that  Terrill  was  his  tool, 
and  that  he  had  supposed  me  dead.  It  was  thus  that 
I  could  account  for  his  startled  gaze  and  evident 
discomposure. 

"Nine  o'clock  was  the  time,  you  said,"  I  sug 
gested  deferentially.  "I  believe  it's  a  minute  or  two 
past." 

75 


76  BLINDFOLDED 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Doddridge  Knapp,  pulling  him 
self  together.  "Come  in  here." 

He  looked  suspiciously  at  me  as  he  took  a  seat 
at  his  desk,  and  motioned  me  to  another. 

"I  had  a  little  turn,"  he  said,  eying  me  nervously ; 
"a  vertigo,  I  believe  the  doctor  called  it.  Just  reach 
my  overcoat  pocket  there,  will  you? — the  left-hand 
side.  Yes,  bring  me  that  flask." 

He  poured  out  a  small  glass  of  liquor,  and  the 
rich  odor  of  brandy  rose  through  the  room.  Then 
he  took  a  vial  from  an  inside  pocket,  counted  a  few 
drops  into  the  glass,  and  drank  it  at  a  swallow. 

I  marveled  at  the  actions  of  the  man,  and  won 
dered  if  he  was  nerving  himself  to  some  deed  that 
he  lacked  courage  to  perform. 

When  he  had  cleared  his  throat  of  the  fiery  liquor, 
the  Wolf  turned  to  me  with  a  more  composed  and 
kindly  expression. 

"I  never  drink  during  business  hours,"  he  said 
with  a  trace  of  apology  in  his  tone.  "It's  bad  for 
business,  and  for  the  drink,  too.  But  this  is  a  little 
trouble  I've  had  a  touch  of  in  the  last  two  months. 
Just  remember,  young  man,  that  I  expect  you  to  do 
your  drinking  after  business  is  over — and  not  too 
much  then.  And  now  to  business,"  said  my  em 
ployer  with  decision.  "Take  down  these  orders." 

The  King  of  the  Street  was  himself  once  more, 
and  I  marveled  again  at  the  quickness  and  clearness 
of  his  directions.  I  was  to  buy  one  hundred  shares 
of  this  stock,  sell  five  hundred  of  that  stock,  buy 


A   DAY   IN    THE    MARKET          77 

one  thousand  of  another  in  blocks  of  one  hundred, 
and  sell  the  same  in  a  single  block  at  the  last  session. 

"And  the  last  thing  you  do,"  he  continued,  "buy 
every  share  of  Omega  that  is  offered.  There'll  be 
a  big  block  of  it  thrown  on  the  market,  and  more  in 
the  afternoon.  Buy  it,  whatever  the  price.  There's 
likely  to  be  a  big  slump.  Don't  bid  for  it — don't  keep 
up  the  price,  you  understand — but  get  it." 

"If  somebody  else  is  snapping  it  up,  do  I  under 
stand  that  I'm  not  to  bid  over  them?" 

"You're  not  to  understand  anything  of  the  kind," 
he  said,  with  a  little  disgust  in  his  tone.  "You're  to 
get  the  stock.  You've  bought  and  sold  enough  to 
know  how  to  do  that.  But  don't  start  a  boom  for 
the  price.  Let  her  go  down.  Sabe?" 

I  felt  that  there  was  deep  water  ahead. 

"Perfectly,"  I  said.  "I  think  I  see  the  whole 
thing." 

The  King  of  the  Street  looked  at  me  with  a  grim 
smile. 

"Maybe  you  do,  but  all  the  same  you'd  better  keep 
your  money  out  of  this  little  deal  unless  you  can 
spare  it  as  well  as  not.  Well,  get  back  to  your  room. 
You've  got  your  check-book  all  right?" 

Alone  once  more  I  was  in  despair  of  unraveling 
the  tangle  in  which  I  was  involved.  I  felt  convinced 
that  Doddridge  Knapp  was  the  mover  in  the  plots 
that  sought  my  life.  He  had,  I  felt  sure,  believed 
me  dead,  and  was  startled  into  fear  at  my  unher 
alded  appearance.  Yet  why  should  he  trust  me  with 


78  BLINDFOLDED 

his  business?  I  could  not  doubt  that  the  buying 
and  selling  he  had  given  to  my  care  were  important. 
I  knew  nothing  about  the  price  of  stocks  but  I  was 
sure  that  the  orders  he  had  given  me  involved 
many  thousands  of  dollars.  Yet  it  might  be — the 
thought  struck  home  to  me — that  the  credit  had  not 
been  provided  for  me,  and  my  checks  on  the  Ne 
vada  Bank  would  serve  only  to  land  me  in  jail. 

The  disturbed  condition  of  the  books  attracted 
my  attention  once  more.  The  volumes  were  scat 
tered  over  the  desk  and  thrown  about  the  room  as 
though  somebody  had  been  seeking  for  a  mislaid 
document.  I  looked  curiously  over  them  as  I  re 
placed  them  on  the  shelves.  They  were  law-books, 
California  Reports,  and  the  ordinary  text-books 
and  form-books  of  the  attorney.  All  bore  on  the 
fly-leaf  the  name  of  Horace  H.  Plymire,  but  no  pa 
per  or  other  indication  of  ownership  could  I  find. 

I  wondered  idly  who  this  Plymire  might  be,  and 
pictured  to  myself  some  old  attorney  who  had  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  Doddridge  Knapp,  and  had, 
through  misfortune,  been  forced  to  sell  everything 
for  the  mess  of  pottage  to  keep  life  in  him.  But 
there  was  small  time  for  musing,  and  I  went  out 
to  do  Doddridge  Knapp's  bidding  in  the  stock- 
gambling  whirlpool  of  Pine  Street. 

There  was  already  a  confused  murmur  of  voices 
about  the  rival  exchanges  that  were  the  battle 
grounds  of  millionaires.  The  "curbstone  boards" 
were  in  session.  The  buyers  who  traded  face  to  face, 


A    DAY    IN    THE    MARKET          79 

and  the  brokers  who  carried  their  offices  under  their 
hats,  were  noisily  bargaining,  raising  as  much 
clamor  over  buying  and  selling  a  few  shares  as  the 
most  important  dealer  in  the  big  boards  could  raise 
over  the  transfer  of  as  many  thousands. 

It  was  easy  to  find  Bockstein  and  Eppner,  and 
there  could  be  no  mistaking  the  prosperity  of  the 
firm,  The  indifference  of  the  clerks  to  my  presence, 
and  the  evident  contempt  with  which  an  order  for 
a  hundred  shares  of  something  was  being  taken 
from  an  apologetic  old  gentleman  were  enough  to 
assure  me  of  that. 

Bockstein  and  Eppner  were  together,  evidently 
consulting  over  the  business  to  be  done.  Bockstein 
was  tall  and  gray-haired,  with  a  stubby  gray  beard. 
Eppner  was  short  and  a  little  stooped,  with  a  blue- 
black  mustache,  snapping  blue-black  eyes,  and  strong 
blue-black  dots  over  his  face  where  his  beard  strug 
gled  vainly  against  the  devastating  razor.  Both  were 
strongly  marked  with  the  shrewd,  money-getting 
visage.  I  set  forth  my  business. 

"You  wand  to  gif  a  larch  order?"  said  Bockstein, 
looking  over  my  memoranda.  "Do  you  haf  refer 
ences?" 

"Yes,"  echoed  Eppner.  "References  are  custom 
ary,  you  know."  He  spoke  in  a  high -keyed  voice 
that  had  irritating  suggestions  in  it. 

"Is  there  any  reference  better  than  cash?"  I 
asked. 

The  partners  looked  at  each  other. 


8o  BLINDFOLDED 

"None,"  they  replied. 

"How  much  will  secure  you  on  the  order?'* 

They  named  a  heavy  margin,  and  the  sum  total 
took  my  heart  into  my  mouth.  How  large  a  balance 
I  could  draw  against  I  had  not  the  faintest  idea. 
Possibly  this  was  a  trap  to  throw  me  into  jail  as 
a  common  swindler  attempting  to  pass  worthless 
checks.  But  there  was  no  time  to  hesitate.  I  drew 
a  check  for  the  amount,  signed  Henry  Wilton's 
name,  and  tossed  it  over  to  Bockstein. 

"All  ridt,"  said  the  senior  partner.  "Zhust  talk 
it  ofer  vit  Misder  Eppner.  He  goes  on  der  floor." 

I  knew  well  enough  what  was  wanted.  My  finan 
cial  standing  was  to  be  tested  by  the  head  of  the 
firm,  while  the  junior  partner  kept  me  amused. 

Eppner  was  quick  to  take  my  ideas.  A  few 
words  of  explanation,  and  he  understood  perfectly 
what  I  wanted. 

"You  have  not  bought  before?"  It  was  an  inter 
rogation,  not  an  assertion. 

"Oh,  yes/'  I  said  carelessly,  "but  not  through 
you,  I  believe." 

"No,  no,  I  think  not.  I  should  have  remembered 
you." 

I  thought  this  might  be  a  favorable  opportunity 
to  glean  a  little  information  of  what  was  going  on 
in  the  market. 

"Are  there  any  good  deals  in  prospect?"  I  ven 
tured. 

I  could  see  in  the  blue-black  depths  of  his  eyes 


A   DAY   IN   THE    MARKET          81 

that  an  unfavorable  opinion  he  had  conceived  of  my 
judgment  was  deepened  by  this  question.  There 
was  doubtless  in  it  the  flavor  of  the  amateur. 

"We  never  advise  our  customers,"  was  the  high- 
keyed  reply. 

"Certainly  not,"  I  replied.  "I  don't  want  advice 
— merely  to  know  what  is  going  on." 

"Excuse  me,  but  I  never  gossip.  It  is  a  rule  I 
make." 

"It  might  interfere  with  your  opportunities  to 
pick  up  a  good  bargain  now  and  then,"  I  suggested, 
as  the  blue-black  man  seemed  at  a  loss  for  words. 

"We  never  invest  in  stocks,"  was  the  curt  reply. 

"Excellent  idea,"  said  I,  "for  those  who  know  too 
much  or  too  little." 

Eppner  failed  to  smile,  and  could  think  of  noth 
ing  to  say.  I  was  a  little  abashed,  notwithstanding 
the  tone  of  haughty  indifference  I  took.  I  began  to 
feel  very  young  before  this  machine-like  impersona 
tion  of  the  market. 

Bockstein  relieved  the  embarrassment  of  the  situa 
tion  by  coming  in  out  of  breath,  with  a  brave  pre 
tense  of  having  been  merely  consulting  a  customer 
in  the  next  room. 

"You  haf  exblained  to  Misder  Eppner?"  he  in 
quired.  "Den  all  is  done.  Here  is  a  card  to  der 
Board  Room.  If  orders  you  haf  to  gif,  Eppner  vill 
dake  dem  on  der  floor.  Zhust  gif  him  der  check  for 
margin,  and  all  is  veil." 

At  the  end  of  this  harangue  I  found  myself  out- 


82  BLINDFOLDED 

side  the  office,  with  Bockstein's  back  waddling  to 
ward  the  private  room  where  the  partners  were  to 
have  their  last  consultation  before  going  to  the 
Board. 

My  check  had  been  honored,  then,  and  Bockstein 
had  assured  himself  of  my  solvency.  In  the  re 
bound  from  anxiety,  I  swelled  with  the  pride  of  a 
Jcapitalist — on  Doddridge  Knapp's  money. 

In  the  Board  Room  of  the  big  Exchange  the  up 
roar  was  something  astonishing.  The  confusion 
outside  had  given  me  a  suggestion  that  the  business 
of  buying  and  selling  stocks  was  carried  on  in  a 
somewhat  less  conventional  manner  than  the  trade 
in  groceries.  But  it  had  not  quite  prepared  me  for 
the  scene  in  the  Exchange. 

The  floor  was  filled  with  a  crowd  of  lunatics, 
howling,  shaking  fists,  and  pushing  and  scrambling 
from  one  place  to  another  with  the  frenzy  of  a  band 
of  red  men  practising  the  scalp  dance  by  the  bright 
glow  of  the  white  man's  fire-water.  A  confused 
roar  rose  from  the  mob,  and  whenever  it  showed 
signs  of  flagging  a  louder  cry  from  some  quarter 
would  renew  its  strength,  and  a  blast  of  shouts  and 
screams,  a  rush  of  struggling  men  toward  the  one 
who  had  uttered  the  cry,  and  a  waving  of  fists,  arms, 
and  hats,  suggested  visions  of  lynching  and  sud 
den  death. 

After  a  little  I  was  able  to  discover  a  method  in 
the  outbreaks  of  apparent  lunacy,  and  found  that  the 
shouts  and  yells  and  screams,  the  shaking  of  fists, 


A  DAY  IN  THE  MARKET         83 

and  the  waving  of  arms  were  merely  a  more  or  less 
energetic  method  of  bidding  for  stocks;  that  the 
ringing  of  gongs  and  the  bellow  of  the  big  man  who 
smiled  on  the  bear-garden  from  the  high  desk  were 
merely  the  audible  signs  that  another  stock  was  be 
ing  called;  and  that  the  brazen-voiced  reading  of 
a  roll  was  merely  the  official  announcement  of  the 
record  of  bargains  and  sales  that  had  been  going 
on  before  me. 

It  was  my  good  fortune  to  make  out  so  much  be 
fore  the  purchase  of  the  stocks  on  my  order  list  was 
completed.  The  crisis  was  at  hand  in  which  I  must 
have  my  wits  about  me,  and  be  ready  to  act  for  my 
self. 

Eppner  rushed  up  and  reported  the  bargains 
made,  handing  me  a  slip  with  the  figures  he  had 
paid  for  the  stocks.  He  was  no  longer  the  impas 
sive  engine  of  business  that  he  had  appeared  in  the 
back  room  of  his  office.  He  was  now  the  embodi 
ment  of  the  riot  I  had  been  observing.  His  blue- 
black  hair  was  rumpled  and  on  end.  His  blue-black, 
eyes  flashed  with  animation.  The  blue-black  dots 
that  showed  where  his  beard  would  be  if  he  had 
let  it  were  almost  overwhelmed  by  the  glow  that 
excitement  threwr  into  his  sallow  cheeks. 

"Any  more  orders?"  he  gasped.  He  was  trem 
bling  with  excitement  and  suppressed  eagerness 
for  the  fray. 

"Yes,"  I  shouted  above  the  roar  about  me.  "I 
want  to  buy  Omega." 


84  BLINDFOLDED 

He  gave  a  look  that  might  have  been  a  warning, 
if  I  could  have  read  it;  but  it  was  gone  with  a 
shrug  as  though  he  would  say,  "Well,  it's  no  busi 
ness  of  mine." 

"How  much  ?"  he  asked.    "Wait !" 

He  started  away  at  a  scream  from  the  front,  but 
returned  in  a  moment.  He  had  bought  or  sold 
something,  but  I  had  not  the  least  idea  what  it 
was,  or  which  he  had  done. 

"It's  coming !"  he  yelled  in  my  ear. 

The  gong  rang.  There  was  a  confused  cry  from 
the  man  at  the  big  desk.  And  pandemonium  let 
loose. 

I  had  thought  the  riot  that  had  gone  before  as 
near  the  climax  of  noise  as  it  was  possible  to  get. 
I  was  mistaken.  The  roar  that  followed  the  call  was 
to  the  noise  that  had  gone  before  as  is  the  hurricane 
to  the  zephyr.  There  was  a  succession  of  yells, 
hoots,  cries  and  bellows;  men  rushed  wildly  at  each 
other,  swung  in  a  mad  dance,  jumped  up  and  down; 
and  the  floor  became  a  frantic  sea  of  fists,  arms,  hats, 
heads,  and  all  things  movable. 

"Omega  opens  at  sixty-five,"  shouted  Eppner. 

"Bid  sixty,"  I  shouted  in  reply,  "but  get  all  you 
can,  even  if  you  have  to  pay  sixty-five." 

Eppner  gave  a  bellow,  and  skated  into  a  group 
of  fat  men,  gesticulating  violently.  The  roar  in 
creased,  if  such  a  thing  were  possible. 

In  a  minute  Eppner  was  back,  perspiring,  and  I 
fancied  a  trifle  worried. 


A   DAY    IN    THE    MARKET          85 

"They're  dropping  it  on  me/'  he  gasped  in  my  ear. 
"Five  hundred  at  sixty-two  and  one  thousand  at 
sixty.  Small  lots  coming  fast  and  big  ones  on  the 
way." 

"Good!  Bid  fifty-five,  and  then  fifty,  but  get 
them." 

With  a  roar  he  rushed  into  the  midst  of  a  whirl 
ing  throng.  I  saw  twenty  brokers  about  him,  shout 
ing  and  threatening.  One  in  his  eagerness  jumped 
upon  the  shoulders  of  a  fat  man  in  front  of  him,  and 
shook  a  paper  under  his  nose. 

I  could  make  out  nothing  of  what  was  going  on, 
except  that  the  excitement  was  tremendous. 

Twice  Eppner  reported  to  me.  The  stock  was 
being  hammered  down  stroke  by  stroke.  There  was 
a  rush  to  sell.  Fifty-five — fifty-three — fifty,  came 
the  price — then  by  leaps  to  forty-five  and  forty.  It 
was  a  panic.  At  last  the  gong  sounded,  and  the 
scene  was  over.  Men  staggered  from  the  Exchange, 
white  as  death,  some  cursing,  some  angry  and  red, 
some  despairing,  some  elate.  I  could  see  that  ten 
had  lost  for  one  who  had  gained. 

Eppner  reported  at  the  end  of  the  call.  He  had 
bought  for  me  twelve  thousand  five  hundred  shades, 
over  ten  thousand  of  them  below  fifty.  The  total 
was  frightful.  There  was  half  a  million  dollars  to 
pay  when  the  time  for  settlement  came.  It  was  folly 
to  suppose  that  my  credit  at  the  Nevada  was  of  this 
size.  But  I  put  a  bold  face  on  it,  gave  a  check  for 
the  figure  that  Eppner  named,  and  rose. 


86  BLINDFOLDED 

"Any  more  orders?"  he  asked. 

"Not  till  afternoon." 

As  I  passed  into  the  street  I  was  astonished  at  the 
swift  transformation  that  had  come  over  it.  The 
block  about  the  Exchange  was  crowded  with  a  toss 
ing  throng,  hundreds  upon  hundreds  pushing  to 
ward  its  fateful  doors.  But  where  cheerfulness  and 
hope  had  ruled,  fear  and  gloom  now  vibrated  in  elec 
tric  waves  before  me.  The  faces  turned  to  the  piti 
less,  polished  granite  front  of  the  great  gambling- 
hall  were  white  and  drawn,  and  on  them  sat  Ruin 
and  Despair.  The  men  were  for  the  most  part  silent, 
with  here  and  there  one  cursing;  the  women,  who 
were  there  by  scores,  wept  and  mourned ;  and  from 
the  multitudes  rose  that  peculiar  whisper  of  crowds 
that  tells  of  apprehension  of  things  worse  to  come. 
And  this,  I  must  believe,  was  the  work  of  Doddridgc 
Knapp. 


CHAPTER  X 

A  TANGLE  OF  SCHEMES 

Doddridge  Knapp  was  seated  calmly  in  my  of 
fice  when  I  opened  the  door.  There  was  a  grim 
smile  about  the  firm  jaws,  and  a  satisfied  glitter  in 
the  keen  eyes.  The  Wolf  had  found  his  prey,  and 
the  dismay  of  the  sheep  at  the  sight  of  his  fangs 
gave  him  satisfaction  instead  of  distress. 

The  King  of  the  Street  honored  me  with  a  royal 
nod. 

"There  seems  to  have  been  a  little  surprise  for 
somebody  on  the  Board  this  morning,"  he  sug 
gested. 

"I  heard  something  about  it  on  the  street/'  I  ad 
mitted. 

"It  was  a  good  plan  and  worked  well.  Let  me  see 
your  memoranda  of  purchases." 

I  gave  him  my  slips. 

He  looked  over  them  with  growing  perplexity  in 
his  face. 

"Here's  twelve  thousand  five  hundred  shares  of 
Omega." 

"Yes." 

"You  paid  too  much  for  that  first  lot."  He  was 
still  poring  over  the  list. 


88  BLINDFOLDED 

"It's  easier  to  see  that  now  than  then/'  I  sug 
gested  dryly. 

"Humph!  yes.  But  there's  something  wrong 
here."  He  was  comparing  my  list  with  another  in 
his  hand. 

"There!"  I  thought;  "my  confounded  ignorance 
has  made  a  mess  of  it."  But  I  spoke  with  all  the 
confidence  I  could  assume:  "What's  the  matter, 
now?" 

"Eleven  thousand  and  twelve  thousand  five  hun 
dred  make  twenty-three  thousand  five  hundred ;  and 
here  are  sales  of  Omega  this  morning  of  thirty- 
three  thousand  eight  hundred  and  thirty."  He 
seemed  to  be  talking  more  to  himself  than  to  me,  and 
to  be  far  from  pleased. 

"How's  that?  I  don't  understand."  I  was  all  in 
the  dark  over  his  musings. 

"I  picked  up  eleven  thousand  shares  in  the  other 
Boards  this  morning,  and  twelve  thousand  five  hun 
dred  through  you,  but  somebody  has  taken  in  the 
other  ten  thousand."  The  King  of  the  Street 
seemed  puzzled  and,  I  thought,  a  little  worried. 

"Well,  you  got  over  twenty-three  thousand 
shares,"  I  suggested  consolingly.  "That's  a  pretty 
good  morning's  work." 

The  King  of  the  Street  gave  me  a  contemptuous 
glance. 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Wilton.  I  sold  ten  thousand  of 
those  shares  to  myself." 

A  new  light  broke  upon  me.    I  was  getting  les- 


A   TANGLE   OF   SCHEMES         89 

sons  of  one  of  the  many  ways  in  which  the  market 
was  manipulated. 

"Then  you  think  that  somebody  else — " 

The  King  of  the  Street  broke  in  with  a  grim 
smile. 

"Never  mind  what  I  think.  I've  got  the  contract 
for  doing  the  thinking  for  this  job,  and  I  reckon  I 
can  'tend  to  it." 

The  great  speculator  was  silent  for  a  few  mo 
ments. 

"I  might  as  well  be  frank  with  you,"  he  said  at 
last.  "You'll  have  to  know  something,  to  work  in 
telligently.  I  must  get  control  of  the  Omega  Com 
pany,  and  to  do  it  I've  got  to  have  more  stock.  I've 
been  afraid  of  a  combination  against  me,  and  I  guess 
I've  struck  it.  I  can't  be  sure  yet,  but  when  those 
ten  thousand  shares  were  gobbled  up  on  a  panicky 
market,  I'll  bet  there's  something  up." 

"Who  is  in  it?"  I  asked  politely. 

"They've  kept  themselves  covered,"  said  the  King 
of  the  Street,  "but  I'll  have  them  out  in  the  open 
before  the  end.     And  then,  my  boy,  you'll  see  the' 
fur  fly." 

As  these  words  were  uttered  I  could  see  the  yel 
low-gray  goatee  rise  like  bristles,  and  the  fangs  of 
the  Wolf  shine  white  under  the  yellow-gray  mus 
tache. 

"I've  got  a  few  men  staked  out,"  he  continued 
slowly,  "and  I  reckon  I'll  know  something  about  it 
by  this  time  to-morrow." 


90  BLINDFOLDED 

There  was  the  growl  of  the  Wolf  in  his  voice. 

"Now  for  this  afternoon,"  he  continued.  "There's 
got  to  be  some  sharp  work  done.  I  reckon  the  fall 
ing  movement  is  over.  We've  got  to  pay  for  what 
we  get  from  now  on.  I've  got  a  man  looking  after 
the  between-Board  trading.  With  the  scare  that's 
on  in  the  chipper  crowd  out  there,  I  look  to  pick  up  a 
thousand  shares  or  so  at  about  forty." 

"Well,  what's  the  program?"  I  asked  cheerfully. 

"Buy,"  he  said  briefly.  "Take  everything  that's 
offered  this  side  of  seventy-five." 

"Um — there's  a  half-million  wanted  already  to 
settle  for  what  I  bought  this  morning." 

The  bushy  brows  drew  down,  but  the  King  of  the 
Street  answered  lightly: 

"Your  check  is  good  for  a  million,  my  boy,  as 
long  as  it  goes  to  settle  for  what  you're  ordered  to 
buy."  Then  he  added  grimly :  "I  don't  think  you'd 
find  it  worth  much  for  anything  else." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door  beyond,  and  he 
hastily  rose. 

"Be  here  after  the  two-thirty  session,"  he  said. 
And  the  Wolf,  huge  and  masterful,  disappeared 
with  a  stealthy  tread,  and  the  door  closed  softly  be 
hind  him. 

A  million  dollars!  My  check  honored  for  un 
limited  amounts!  Doddridge  Knapp  trusting  me 
with  a  great  fortune!  I  was  overwhelmed,  intox 
icated,  with  the  consciousness  of  power. 

Yet  this  was  the  man  who  had  brought  death  to 


A   TANGLE   OF    SCHEMES         91 

Henry  Wilton,  and  had  twice  sought  my  life  in  the 
effort  to  wrest  from  me  a  packet  of  information  I 
did  not  have.  This  was  the  man  whose  face  had 
gleamed  fierce  and  hateful  in  the  lantern's  flash  in 
the  alley.  This  was  the  man  I  had  sworn  to  bring 
to  the  gallows  for  a  brutal  crime.  And  now  I  was 
his  trusted  agent,  with  control,  however  limited,  of 
millions. 

It  was  a  puzzle  too  deep  for  me.  I  was  near  com 
ing  to  Mother  Borton's  view  that  there  was  some 
thing  uncanny  about  Doddridge  Knapp.  Did  two 
spirits  animate  that  body?  What  wras  the  thread 
that  should  join  all  parts  of  the  mystery  into  one 
harmonious  whole? 

I  wondered  idly  who  Doddridge  Knapp's  visitor 
might  be,  but  as  I  could  see  no  way  of  finding  out, 
and  felt  no  special  concern  over  his  identity  or  pur 
poses,  I  rose  and  left  the  office.  As  I  stepped  into 
the  hall  I  discovered  that  somebody  had  a  deeper 
curiosity  than  I.  A  man  was  stooping  to  the  key 
hole  of  Doddridge  Knapp's  room  in  the  endeavor  to 
see  or  hear.  As  he  heard  the  sound  of  my  opening 
door  he  started  up,  and  with  a  bound,  was  around 
the  turn  of  the  hall  and  pattering  down  the  stairs. 

In  another  bound  I  was  after  him.  I  had  seen  his 
form  for  but  a  second,  and  his  face  not  at  all.  But 
in  that  second  I  knew  him  for  Tim  Terrill  of  the 
snake-eyes  and  the  murderous  purpose. 

When  I  reached  the  head  of  the  stairs  he  was  no 
where  to  be  seen,  but  I  heard  the  patter  of  his  fee*" 


92  BLINDFOLDED 

below  and  plunged  down  three  steps  at  a  time  and 
into  Clay  street,  nearly  upsetting  a  stout  gentleman 
in  my  haste.  The  street  was  busy  with  people,  but 
no  sign  of  the  snake-eyed  man  greeted  me. 

Much  disturbed  in  mind  at  this  apparition  of  my 
enemy,  I  sought  in  vain  for  some  explanation  of  his 
presence.  Was  he  spying  on  Doddridge  Knapp  ? 
Did  he  not  stand  on  a  better  footing  with  his  em 
ployer  than  this?  He  was,  I  must  suppose,  trusted 
with  the  most  secret  and  evil  purposes  of  thatstrange 
man,  and  should  be  able  to  speak  with  him  on  even 
terms.  Yet  here  he  was,  doing  the  work  of  the 
merest  spy.  What  wickedness  was  he  planning  ? 
What  treachery  was  he  shaping  in  his  designs  on 
the  man  whose  bread  he  was  eating  and  whose  plans 
of  crime  he  was  the  chief  agent  to  assist  or  execute  ? 

I  must  have  stood  gaping  in  the  street  like  a 
countryman  at  a  fair  as  I  revolved  these  questions 
in  my  mind  without  getting  an  answer  to  them,  for 
I  was  roused  by  a  man  bumping  into  me  roughly. 

I  suspected  that  he  had  done  it  on  purpose,  but 
I  begged  his  pardon  and  felt  for  my  watch.  I  could 
find  none  of  my  personal  property  missing,  but  I 
noticed  the  fellow  reeling  back  toward  me,  and 
doubled  my  fist  with  something  of  an  intention  to 
commit  a  breach  of  the  peace  if  he  repeated  his  trick. 
I  thought  better  of  it,  and  started  by  him  briskly, 
when  he  spoke  in  a  low  tone : 

"  You'd  better  go  to  your  room,  Mr.  Wilton." 
He  said  something  more  that  I  did  not  catch,  and, 


A   TANGLE   OF    SCHEMES         93 

reeling  on,  disappeared  in  the  crowd  before  I  could 
turn  to  mark  or  question  him. 

I  thought  at  first  that  he  meant  the  room  I  had 
just  left.  Then  it  occurred  to  me  that  it  was  the 
room  Henry  had  occupied — the  room  in  which  I 
had  spent  my  first  dreadful  night  in  San  Francisco, 
and  had  not  revisited  in  the  thirty  hours  since  I  had 
left  it. 

The  advice  suited  my  inclination,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  I  was  entering  the  dingy  building  and 
climbing  the  worn  and  creaking  stairs.  The  place 
lost  its  air  of  mystery  in  the  broad  sunshine  and 
penetrating  daylight,  and  though  its  interior  was  as 
gloomy  as  ever,  it  lacked  the  haunting  suggestions 
it  had  borrowed  from  darkness  and  the  night. 

Slipped  under  the  door  I  found  two  notes.  One 
was  from  Detective  Coogan,  and  read : 

"Inquest  this  afternoon.  Don't  want  you.  Have 
another  story.  Do  you  want  the  body?" 

The  other  was  in  a  woman's  hand,  and  the  faint 
perfume  of  the  first  note  I  had  received  rose  from  the 
sheet.  It  read: 

"I  do  not  understand  your  silence.  The  money  is 
ready.  What  is  the  matter?" 

The  officer's  note  was  easy  enough  to  answer.  I 
found  paper,  and,  assuring  Detective  Coogan  of  my 
gratitude  at  escaping  the  inquest,  I  asked  him  to 


94  BLINDFOLDED 

turn  the  body  over  to  the  undertaker  to  be  buried  at 
my  order. 

The  other  note  was  more  perplexing.  I  could 
make  nothing  of  it.  It  was  evidently  from  my  un 
known  employer,  and  her  anxiety  was  plain  to  see. 
But  I  was  no  nearer  to  finding  her  than  before,  and 
if  I  knew  how  to  reach  her  I  knew  not  what  to  say. 
As  I  was  contemplating  this  state  of  affairs  with 
some  dejection,  and  sealing  my  melancholy  note  to 
Detective  Coogan,  there  was  a  quick  step  in  the  hall 
and  a  rap  at  the  panel.  It  was  a  single  person,  so 
I  had  no  hesitation  in  opening  the  door,  but  it  gave 
me  a  passing  satisfaction  to  have  my  hand  on  the 
revolver  in  my  pocket  as  I  turned  the  knob. 

It  was  a  boy,  who  thrust  a  letter  into  my  hand. 

" Yer  name  Wilton  ?"  he  inquired,  still  holding  on 
to  the  envelope. 

"Yes." 

"That's  yourn,  then."  And  he  was  prepared  to 
make  a  bolt. 

"Hold  on,"  I  said.    "Maybe  there's  an  answer." 

"No,  there  ain't.  The  bloke  as  gave  it  to  me  said 
there  weren't." 

"Well,  here's  something  I  want  you  to  deliver," 
said  I,  taking  up  my  note  to  Detective  Coogan. 
"Do  you  know  where  the  City  Hall  is  ?" 

"Does  I  know — what  are  yer  givin'  us  ?"  said  the 
boy  with  infinite  scorn  in  his  voice. 

"A  quarter,"  I  returned  with  a  laugh,  tossing  him 
the  coin.  "Wait  a  minute." 


A   TANGLE   OF    SCHEMES         95 

"Yer  ain't  bad  stuff,"  said  the  boy  with  a  grin. 
I  tore  open  the  envelope  and  read  on  the  sheet  that 
came  from  it : 

"Sell  everything  you  bought — never  mind  the 
price.  Other  orders  off.  D.  K." 

I  gasped  with  amazement.  Had  Doddridge 
Knapp  gone  mad?  To  sell  twelve  thousand  five 
hundred  shares  of  Omega  was  sure  to  smash  the 
market,  and  the  half-million  dollars  that  had  been 
put  into  them  would  probably  shrink  by  two  hun 
dred  thousand  or  more  if  the  order  was  carried  out. 

I  read  the  note  again. 

Then  a  suspicion  large  enough  to  overshadow  the 
universe  grew  up  in  my  brain.  I  recalled  that  Dodd 
ridge  Knapp  had  given  me  a  cipher  with  which  he 
would  communicate  with  me,  and  I  believed,  more 
over,  that  he  had  no  idea  where  I  might  be  at  the 
present  moment. 

"It's  all  right,  sonny,"  I  said.    "Trot  along." 

"Where's  yer  letter?"  asked  the  boy,  loyally', 
anxious  to  earn  his  quarter. 

"It  won't  have  to  go  now,"  I  said  coolly.  I  be 
lieved  that  the  boy  meant  no  harm  to  me,  but  I  was 
not  taking  any  risks. 

The  boy  sauntered  down  the  hall,  singing  My 
Name  Is  Hildebrandt  Montrose,  and  I  was  left  gaz 
ing  at  the  letter  with  a  melancholy  smile. 

"Well,  I  must  look  like  a  sucker  if  they  think  I 


96  BLINDFOLDED 

can  be  taken  in  by  a  trick  like  that,"  was  my  mental 
comment.  I  charged  the  scheme  up  to  my  snake- 
eyed  friend  and  had  a  poorer  opinion  of  his  intelli 
gence  than  I  had  hitherto  entertained.  Yet  I  was 
astonished  that  he  should,  even  with  the  most  hearty 
wish  to  bring  about  my  downfall,  contrive  a  plan 
that  would  inflict  a  heavy  loss  on  his  employer  and 
possibly  ruin  him  altogether.  There  was  more  be 
neath  than  I  could  fathom.  My  brain  refused  to 
work  in  the  maze  of  contradictions  and  mysteries, 
plots  and  counterplots,  in  which  I  was  involved. 

I  took  my  way  at  last  toward  the  market,  and, 
hailing  a  boy  to  whom  I  intrusted  my  letter  to  De 
tective  Coogan,  walked  briskly  to  Pine  Street. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  DEN  OF  THE  WOLF 

The  street  had  changed  its  appearance  in  the  two 
or  three  hours  since  I  had  made  my  way  from  the 
Exchange  through  the  pallid,  panic-stricken  mob. 
There  were  still  thousands  of  people  between  the 
corner  of  Montgomery  Street  and  Leidesdorff,  and 
the  little  alley  itself  was  packed  full  of  shouting, 
struggling  traders.  The  thousands  were  broken 
into  hundreds  of  groups,  and  men  were  noisily  buy 
ing  and  selling,  or  discussing  the  chances  of  the  mar 
ket  when  the  "big  Board"  should  open  once  more. 
But  there  was  an  air  of  confidence,  almost  of 
buoyancy,  in  place  of  the  gloom  and  terror  that  had 
lowered  over  the  street  at  noon.  Plainly  the  panic 
was  over,  and  men  were  inspirited  by  a  belief  that 
"stocks  were  going  up." 

I  made  a  few  dispositions  accordingly.  Taking 
Doddridge  Knapp's  hint,  I  engaged  another  broker 
as  a  relief  to  Eppner,  a  short  fat  man,  with  the  bald 
est  head  I  ever  saw,  a  black  beard  and  a  hook-nose, 
whose  remarkable  activity  and  scattering  charges 
had  attracted  my  attention  in  the  morning  session. 

Wallbridge  was  his  name,  I  found,  and  he  proved 
97 


98  BLINDFOLDED 

to  be  as  intelligent  as  I  could  wish — a  merry  little 
man,  with  a  joke  for  all  things,  and  a  flow  of  words 
that  was  almost  overwhelming. 

"Omega  ?  Yes,"  chuckled  the  stout  little  broker, 
after  he  had  assured  himself  of  my  financial  stand 
ing.  "But  you  ought  to  have  bought  this  morning, 
if  that's  what  you  want.  It  was  hell  popping  and 
the  roof  giving  'way  all  at  once."  The  little  man 
had  an  abundant  stock  of  profanity  which  he  used 
unconsciously  and  with  such  original  variations  that 
one  almost  forgot  the  blasphemy  of  it  while  listen 
ing  to  him.  "You  ought  to  have  been  there,"  he 
continued,  "and  watched  the  boys  shell  'em  out!" 

"Yes,  I  heard  you  had  lively  times." 

"Boiling,"  he  said,  with  coruscating  additions  in 
the  way  of  speech  and  gesture.  "If  it  hadn't  been 
for  Decker  and  some  fellow  we  haven't  had  a  chance 
to  make  out  yet  the  bottom  of  the  market  would 
have  been  resting  on  the  /oof  of  the  lower  regions." 
The  little  man's  remark  was  slightly  more  direct  and 
forcible,  but  this  will  do  for  a  revised  version. 

"Decker!"  I  exclaimed,  pricking  up  my  ears.  "I 
thought  he  had  quit  the  market." 

As  I  had  never  heard  of  Mr.  Decker  before  that 
moment  this  was  not  exactly  the  truth,  but  I  thought 
it  would  serve  me  better. 

"Decker  out  of  it!"  gasped  Wallbridge,  his  bald 
head  positively  glistening  at  the  absurdity  of  the 
idea.  "He'll  be  out  of  it  when  he's  carried  out." 

"I  meant  out  of  Omega.  Is  he  getting  up  a  deal  ?" 


THE   DEN    OF   THE   WOLF         99 

The  little  broker  looked  vexed,  as  though  it 
crossed  his  mind  that  he  had  said  too  much. 

"Oh,  no.  Guess  not.  Don't  think  he  is/'  he  said 
rapidly.  "Just  wanted  to  save  the  market,  I  guess. 
If  Omega  had  gone  five  points  lower,  there  would 
have  been  the  sickest  times  in  the  Street  that  we've 
seen  since  the  Bank  of  California  closed  and  the 
shop  across  the  way," — pointing  his  thumb  at  the 
Exchange, — "had  to  be  shut  up.  But  maybe  it  wasn't 
Decker,  you  know.  That's  just  what  wras  rumored 
on  the  Street,  you  know." 

.  I  suspected  that  my  little  broker  knew  more  than 
he  was  willing  to  tell,  but  I  forbore  to  press  him 
further;  and  giving  him  the  order  to  buy  all  the 
Omega  stock  he  could  pick  up  under  fifty,  I  made 
my  way  to  Eppner. 

The  blue-black  eyes  of  that  impassive  agent 
snapped  with  a  glow  of  interest  when  I  gave  him 
my  order  to  sell  the  other  purchases  of  the  morning 
and  buy  Omega,  but  faded  into  a  dull  stare  when  I 
lingered  for  conversation. 

I  was  not  to  be  abashed. 

"I  wonder  who  was  picking  up  Omega  this  morn 
ing?"  I  said. 

"Oh,  some  of  the  shorts  getting  ready  to  fill  con 
tracts,"  he  replied  in  his  dry,  uninterested  tones. 

"I  heard  that  Decker  was  in  the  market  for  the 
stock,"  I  said. 

The  blue-black  eyes  gave  a  flash  of  genuine  sur 
prise. 


ioo  BLINDFOLDED 

"Decker!"  he  exclaimed.  Then  his  eyes  fell,  and 
he  paused  a  moment  before  replying  in  his  high  in 
flexible  voice.  "He  might  be." 

"Is  he  after  Ornega,  or  is  he  just  bracing  up  the 
market?" 

"Excust  me,"  said  Eppner  with  the  cold  reflec 
tion  of  an  apologetic  tone,  "but  we  never  advise 
customers.  Are  you  walking  over  to  the  Ex 
change?" 

In  the  Exchange  all  was  excitement,  and  the  first 
call  brought  a  roar  of  struggling  brokers.  I  could 
make  nothing  of  the  clamor,  but  my  nearest  neigh 
bor  shouted  in  my  ear : 

"A  strong  market !" 

"It  looks  that  way,"  I  shouted  back.  It  certainly 
was  strong  in  noise. 

I  made  out  at  last  that  prices  \vere  being  held  to 
the  figures  of  the  morning's  session,  and  in  some 
cases  were  forced  above  them. 

The  excitement  grew  as  the  call  approached 
Omega.  There  was  an  electric  tension  in  the  air 
that  told  of  the  anxious  hopes  and  fears  that  cen 
tered  in  the  coming  struggle.  The  stock  was  called 
at  last,  and  I  looked  for  a  roar  that  would  shake  the 
building  and  a  scene  of  riot  on  the  floor  that  would 
surpass  anything  I  had  witnessed  yet. 

It  failed  to  come.  There  was  almost  a  pause  in 
the  proceedings. 

I  caught  a  glimpse  of  Doddridge  Knapp  across 
the  room,  looking  on  with  a  grim  smile  on  the  wolf 


THEDENOFTHEWOLF       101 

jaws  and  an  apparently  impassive  interest  in  the 
scene.  I  marveled  at  his  coolness  when  his  fortune, 
perhaps,  turned  on  the  events  of  the  next  five  min 
utes.  He  gave  no  sign,  nor  once  looked  in  my  direc 
tion. 

The  clamor  on  the  floor  began  and  swelled  in 
volume,  and  a  breath  of  visible  relief  passed  over 
the  anxious  assembly. 

Wallbridge  and  Eppner  made  a  dive  at  once  for  a 
yelling  broker,  and  a  cold  chill  ran  down  my  back. 
I  saw  then  that  I  had  set  my  brokers  bidding  against 
each  other  for  the  same  stock. 

"Great  Mammon!"  I  thought.  "If  Doddridge 
Knapp  ever  finds  it  out,  what  a  circus  there  will  be !" 

"She's  going  up !"  said  my  neighbor  with  a  shout 
of  joy.  He  owned  none  of  the  stock,  but  like  the 
rest  of  the  populace  he  was  a  bull  on  principle. 

I  nodded  with  a  dubious  attempt  to  imitate  his 
signs  of  satisfaction. 

Forty-five — forty-seven — fifty-five — it  was  going 
up  by  leaps.  I  blessed  the  forethought  that  had  sug 
gested  to  me  to  put  a  limit  on  Wallbridge  and  stop 
the  competition  between  my  agents  at  fifty.  The 
contest  grew  warmer.  I  could  follow  with  difficulty 
the  course  of  the  proceedings,  but  I  knew  that 
Omega  was  bounding  upward. 

The  call  closed  amid  animation;  but  the  excite 
ment  was  nothing  compared  to  the  scene  that  had 
followed  the  fall  in  the  morning.  Omega  stood  at 
eighty  asked,  and  seventy-eight  bid,  and  the  ship  of 


102  ,  BLINDFOLDED 

the  stock  gamblers  was  again  sailing  on  an  even 
keel.  Some  hundreds  had  been  washed  overboard, 
but  there  were  thousands  left,  and  nobody  foresaw 
the  day  when  the  market  would  take  the  fashion  of 
a  storm-swept  hulk,  with  only  a  chance  survivor 
clinging  here  and  there  to  the  wreckage  and  ex 
changing  tales  of  the  magnificence  that  once  existed. 

The  session  was  over  at  last,  and  Wallbridge  and 
Eppner  handed  me  their  memoranda  of  purchases. 

"You  couldn't  pick  Omega  off  the  bushes  this 
afternoon,  Mr.  Wilton,"  said  Wallbridge,  wiping 
his  bald  head  vigorously.  "There's  fools  at  all  times, 
and  some  of  'em  were  here  and  ready  to  drop  what 
they  had ;  but  not  many.  I  gathered  in  six  hundred 
for  you,  but  I  had  to  fight  for  it." 

I  thanked  the  merry  broker,  and  gave  him  a  check 
for  his  balance. 

Eppner  had  done  some  better  with  a  wider  mar 
gin,  but  all  told  I  had  added  but  three  thousand  one 
hundred  shares  to  my  list.  I  wondered  how  much 
of  this  had  been  sold  to  me  by  my  employer.  Plain 
ly,  if  Doddridge  Knapp  was  needing  Omega  stock  he 
would  have  to  pay  for  it. 

There  was  no  one  to  be  seen  as  I  reached  Room 
15.  The  connecting  door  was  closed  and  locked, 
and  no  sound  came  from  behind  it.  I  turned  to  ar 
range  the  books,  to  keep  from  a  bad  habit  of  think 
ing  over  the  inexplicable.  But  there  was  nothing 
exciting  enough,  in  the  statutes  or  reports  of  court 
decisions  or  text-books,  to  cover  up  the  questions 


THE   DEN    OF    THE    WOLF        103 

agamst  which  I  had  been  beating  in  vain  ever  since 
I  had  entered  this  accursed  city. 

An  hour  passed,  and  no  Doddridge  Knapp.  It 
was  long  past  office  hours.  The  sun  had  disap 
peared  in  the  bank  of  fog  that  was  rolling  up  from 
the  ocean  and  coming  in  wisps  and  streamers  over 
the  hills,  and  the  light  was  fast  failing. 

Just  as  I  was  considering  whether  my  duty  to  my 
employer  constrained  me  to  wait  longer,  I  caught 
sight  of  an  envelope  that  had  been  slipped  under  the 
door.  I  wondered,  as  I  hastily  opened  it  and  brought 
its  inclosure  to  the  failing  light,  how  it  could  have 
got  there.  It  was  in  cipher,  but  it  yielded  to  the  key 
with  which  Doddridge  Knapp  had  provided  me.  I 
made  it  out  to  be  this : 

"Come  to  my  house  to-night.  Bring  your  con 
tracts  with  you.  Knapp." 

I  was  thrown  into  some  perplexity  by  this  order. 
For  a  little  I  suspected  a  trap,  but  on  second  thought 
this  seemed  unlikely.  The  office  furnished  as  con 
venient  a  place  for  homicidal  diversions  as  he  could 
wish,  if  these  were  in  his  intention,  and  possibly  a 
visit  to  Doddridge  Knapp  in  his  own  house  would 
give  me  a  better  clue  to  his  habits  and  purposes,  and 
a  better  chance  of  bringing  home  to  him  his  awful 
crime,  than  a  month  together  on  the  Street. 

The  clocks  were  pointing  past  eight  when  I 
mounted  the  steps  that  led  to  Doddridge  Knapp's 


104  BLINDFOLDED 

door.  Doddridge  Knapp' s  house  fronted  upper  Pine 
Street  much  as  Doddridge  Knapp  himself  fronted 
lower  Pine  Street.  There  was  a  calmly  aggressive 
look  about  it  that  was  typical  of  the  owner.  It  de 
fied  the  elements  with  easy  strength,  as  Doddridge 
Knapp  defied  the  storms  of  the  market.  I  had  the 
fancy  that  even  if  the  directory  had  not  given  me  its 
position  I  might  have  picked  it  out  from  its  neigh 
bors  by  its  individuality,  its  impression  of  reserve 
force. 

I  had  something  of  trepidation,  after  all,  as  I  rang 
the  bell,  for  I  was  far  from  being  sure  that  Dodd 
ridge  Knapp  was  above  carrying  out  his  desperate 
purposes  in  his  own  house,  and  I  wondered  whether 
I  should  ever  come  out  again,  once  I  was  behind 
those  massive  doors.  I  had  taken  the  precaution  to 
find  a  smaller  revolver,  "suitable  for  an  evening 
call,"  as  I  assured  myself,  but  it  did  not  look  to  be 
much  of  a  protection  in  case  the  house  held  a  dozen 
ruffians  of  the  Terrill  brand.  However,  I  must  risk 
it.  I  gave  my  name  to  the  servant  who  opened  the 
door. 

"This  way,"  he  said  quietly. 

I  had  hardly  time  as  I  passed  to  note  the  large 
hall,  the  handsome  staircase,  and  the  wide  parlors 
that  hung  rich  with  drapery,  but  in  darkness.  I  was 
led  beyond  and  behind  them,  and  in  a  moment  was 
ushered  into  a  small,  plainly-furnished  room ;  and  at 
a  desk  covered  with  papers  sat  Doddridge  Knapp, 
the  picture  of  the  Wolf  in  his  den. 


THE   DEN   OF   THE   WOLF       105 

"Sit  down,  Wilton,"  said  he  with  grim  affability, 
giving  his  hand.  "You  won't  mind  if  an  old  man 
doesn't  get  up." 

I  made  some  conventional  reply. 

"Sorry  to  disappoint  you  this  afternoon,  and  take 
up  your  evening,"  he  said ;  "but  I  found  some  busi 
ness  that  needed  more  immediate  attention.  There 
was  a  little  matter  that  had  to  be  looked  after  in 
person."  And  the  Wolf's  fangs  showed  in  a  cruel 
smile,  which  assured  me  that  the  "little  matter"  had 
terminated  unhappily  for  the  other  man. 

I  airily  professed  myself  happy  to  be  at  his  service 
at  any  time. 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  said;  "but  let's  see  your  memo 
randa.  Did  you  do  well  this  afternoon?" 

"No-o,"  I  returned  apologetically.  "Not  so  well 
as  I  wished." 

He  took  the  papers  and  looked  over  them  care 
fully. 

"Thirty-one  hundred,"  he  said  reflectively. 
"Those  sales  were  all  right.  Well,  I  was  afraid  you 
couldn't  get  above  three  thousand.  I  didn't  get  more 
than  two  thousand  in  the  other  Boards  and  on  the 
Street." 

"That  was  the  best  I  could  do,"  I  said  modestly. 
"They  average  at  sixty-five.  Omega  got  away  from 
us  this  afternoon  like  a  runaway  horse." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  King  of  the  Street,  studying 
his  papers  with  drawn  brows.  "That's  all  right.  I'll 
have  to  wait  a  bit  before  going  further." 


io6  BLINDFOLDED 

I  bowed  as  became  one  who  had  no  idea  of  the 
plans  ahead. 

"And  now,"  said  Doddridge  Knapp,  turning  u;i 
me  a  keen  and  lowering  gaze,  "I'd  like  to  know 
what  call  you  have  to  be  spying  on  me?" 

I  opened  my  eyes  wide  in  wonder. 

"Spying?  I  don't  understand." 

"No?"  said  he,  with  something  between  a  growl 
and  a  snarl.  "Well,  maybe  you  don't  understand 
that,  either !"  And  he  tossed  me  a  bit  of  paper. 

I  felt  sure  that  I  did  not.  My  ignorance  gicr.v 
into  amazement  as  I  read.  The  slip  bore  the  words : 


"I  have  bought  Crown  Diamond.    What's  the 
limit?  Wilton." 


"I  certainly  don't  understand,"  I  said.  "What 
does  it  mean  ?" 

"The  man  who  wrote  it  ought  to  know,"  growled 
Doddridge  Knapp,  with  his  eyes  flashing  and  the 
yellow-gray  mustache  standing  out  like  bristles. 
,The  fangs  of  the  Wolf  were  in  sight. 

"Well,  you'll  have  to  look  somewhere  else  for 
him,"  I  said  firmly.  "I  never  saw  the  note,  and  never 
bought  a  share  of  Crown  Diamond." 

Doddridge  Knapp  bent  forward,  and  looked  for 
an  instant  as  though  he  would  leap  upon  me.  His 
eye  was  the  eye  of  a  wild  beast  in  anger.  If  I  had 
written  that  note  I  should  have  gone  through  the 
window  without  stopping  for  explanations.  As  I 


THE   DEN    OF   THE   WOLF       107 

had  not  written  it  I  sat  there  coolly  and  looked  him 
in  the  face  with  an  easy  conscience. 

"Well,  well,"  he  said  at  last,  relaxing  his  gaze,  "I 
almost  believe  you." 

"There's  no  use  going  any  further,  Mr.  Knapp, 
unless  you  believe  me  altogether." 

"I  see  you  understand  what  I  was  going  to  say/' 
he  said  quietly.  "But  if  you  didn't  send  that,  who 
did?" 

"Well,  if  I  were  to  make  a  guess,  I  should  say  it 
was  the  man  who  wrote  this." 

I  tossed  him  in  turn  the  note  I  had  received  in 
the  afternoon,  bidding  me  sell  everything. 

The  King  of  the  Street  looked  at  it  carefully,  and 
his  brows  drew  lower  and  lower  as  its  import 
dawned  on  him.  The  look  of  angry  perplexity 
deepened  on  his  face. 

"Where  did  you  get  this  ?" 

I  detailed  the  circumstances. 

The  anger  that  flashed  in  his  eyes  was  more  elo 
quent  than  the  outbreak  of  curses  I  expected  to  hear. 

"Urn!"  he  said  at  last  with  a  grim  smile.  "It's 
lucky,  after  all,  that  you  had  something  besides  cot 
ton  in  that  skull  of  yours,  Wilton." 

"A  fool  might  have  been  caught  by  it,"  I  said 
modestly. 

"There  looks  to  be  trouble  ahead,"  he  said, 
"There's  a  rascally  gang  in  the  market  these  days." 
And  the  King  of  the  Street  sighed  over  the  dishon 
esty  that  had  corrupted  the  stock  gamblers'  trade. 


io8  BLINDFOLDED 

I  smiled  inwardly,  but  signified  my  agreement 
with  my  employer. 

"Well,  who  wrote  them?"  he  asked  almost 
fiercely.  "They  seem  to  come  from  the  same  hand." 

"Maybe  you'd  better  ask  that  fellow  who  had  his 
jye  at  your  keyhole  when  I  left  the  office  this  noon." 

"Who  was  that?"  The  Wolf  gave  a  startled  look. 
"Why  didn't  you  tell  me?" 

"He  was  a  well-made,  quick,  lithe  fellow,  with  an 
eye  that  reminded  me  of  a  snake.  I  gave  chase  to 
him,  but  couldn't  overhaul  him.  He  squirmed  away 
in  the  crowd,  I  guess." 

The  last  part  of  my  tale  was  unheard.  At  the  de 
scription  of  the  snake-eyed  man,  Doddridge  Knapp 
sank  back  in  his  chair,  the  flash  of  anger  died  out 
of  his  eyes,  and  his  mind  was  far  away. 

Was  it  terror,  or  anxiety,  or  wonder,  that  swept 
in  shadow  across  his  face?  The  mask  that  never 
gave  up  a  thought  or  purpose  before  the  changing 
fortunes  of  the  market  was  not  likely  to  fail  its 
owner  here.  I  could  make  nothing  out  of  the  page 
before  me,  except  that  the  vision  of  Terrill  had 
startled  him. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me?"  he  said  at  last,  in  a 
steady  voice. 

"I  didn't  suppose  it  was  worth  coming  back  for, 
after  I  got  into  the  street.  And,  besides,  you  were 
busy." 

"Yes,  yes,  you  were  right :  you  are  not  to  come — 
of  course,  of  course/' 


THE   DEN    OF    THE   WOLF        109 

The  King  of  the  Street  looked  at  me  curiously, 
and  then  said  smoothly : 

"But  this  isn't  business."  And  he  plunged  into 
the  papers  once  more.  "There  were  over  nine  thou 
sand  shares  sold  this  afternoon,  and  I  got  only  five 
thousand  of  them." 

"I  suppose  Decker  picked  the  others  up,"  I  said. 

The  King  of  the  Street  did  me  the  honor  to  look 
at  me  in  amazement. 

"Decker!"  he  roared.  "How  did  you—"  Then 
he  paused  and  his  voice  dropped  to  its  ordinary  tone. 
"I  reckon  you're  right.  What  gave  you  the  idea?" 

I  frankly  detailed  my  conversation  with  Wall- 
bridge.  As  I  went  on,  I  fancied  that  the  bushy  brows 
drew  down  and  a  little  anxiety  showed  beneath 
them. 

I  had  hardly  finished  my  account  when  there  was 
a  knock  at  the  door,  and  the  servant  appeared. 

"Mrs.  Knapp's  compliments,  and  she  would  like 
to  see  Mr.  Wilton  when  you  are  done,"  he  said. 

I  could  with  difficulty  repress  an  exclamation,  and 
my  heart  climbed  into  my  throat.  I  was  ready  to 
face  the  Wolf  in  his  den,  but  here  was  a  different 
matter.  I  recalled  that  Mrs.  Knapp  was  a  more  in 
timate  acquaintance  of  Henry  Wilton's  than  Dodd- 
ridge  Knapp  had  been,  and  I  saw  Niagara  ahead  of 
my  skiff. 

"Yes,  yes;  quite  likely,"  said  my  employer,  re 
ferring  to  my  story  of  Wallbridge.  "I  heard  some 
thing  of  the  kind  from  my  men.  I'll  know  to-mor- 


no  BLINDFOLDED 

row  for  certain,  I  expect.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that 
the  ladies  would  want  to  see  you.  They  have  missed 
you  lately."  And  the  Wolf  motioned  me  to  the  door 
where  the  servant  waited. 

Here  was  a  predicament.  I  was  missed  and 
wanted — and  by  the  ladies.  My  heart  dropped  back 
from  my  throat,  and  I  felt  it  throbbing  in  the  lowest 
recesses  of  my  boot-heels  as  I  rose  and  followed  my 
guide. 


CHAPTER  XII 

LUELLA    KNAPP 

As  the  door  swung  open,  my  heart  almost  failed 
me.  If  there  had  been  a  chance  of  escape  I  should 
have  made  the  bolt,  then  and  there. 

I  had  not  counted  on  an  interview  with  the  women 
of  Doddridge  Knapp's  family.  I  had,  to  be  sure, 
vaguely  foreseen  the  danger  to  come  from  meeting 
them,  but  I  had  been  confident  that  it  would  be  easy 
to  avoid  them.  And  now,  in  the  face  of  the  emer 
gency,  my  resources  had  failed  me,  and  I  was  walk 
ing  into  Mrs.  Knapp's  reception-room  without  the 
glimmer  of  an  idea  of  how  I  should  find  my  way  out. 

Two  women  rose  to  greet  me  as  I  entered  the 
room. 

"Good  evening,"  said  the  elder  woman,  holding 
out  her  hand.  "You  have  neglected  us  for  a  long 
time."  There  was  something  of  reproach  as  well  as 
civility  in  the  voice. 

Mrs.  Doddridge  Knapp,  for  I  had  no  doubt  it 
was  she  who  greeted  me,  was  large  of  frame  but 
well-proportioned,  and  stood  erect,  vigorous,  with 
an  air  of  active  strength  rare  in  one  of  her  years. 
Her  age  was,  I  supposed,  near  forty-five.  Her  face 

in 


BLINDFOLDED 

was  strong  and  resolute,  yet  it  was  with  the  strength 
and  resolution  of  a  woman,  not  of  a  man.  Alto 
gether  she  looked  a  fit  mate  for  Doddridge  Knapp. 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  adjusting  my  manner  nicely  to 
hers,  "I  have  been  very  busy." 

As  she  felt  the  touch  of  my  hand  and  heard  the 
sound  of  my  voice,  I  thought  I  saw  a  look  of  sur 
prise,  apprehension  and  hesitation  in  her  eyes.  If  it 
was  there  it  was  gone  in  an  instant,  and  she  replied 
gaily: 

"Busy?  How  provoking  of  you  to  say  so!  You 
should  never  be  too  busy  to  take  the  commands  of 
the  ladies." 

"That  is  why  I  am  here,"  I  interrupted  with  my 
best  bow.  But  she  continued  without  noting  it : 

"Luella  wagered  with  me  that  you  would  make 
that  excuse.  I  expected  something  more  original." 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  I  said,  with  a  reflection  of  the 
bantering  air  she  had  assumed. 

"Oh,  indeed!"  exclaimed  the  younger  woman,  to 
whom  my  eyes  had  turned  as  Mrs.  Knapp  spoke  her 
name.  "How  very  unkind  of  you  to  say  so,  when  I 
have  just  won  a  pair  of  gloves  by  it.  Good  evening 
to  you !"  And  she  held  out  her  hand. 

It  was  with  a  strong  effort  that  I  kept  my  self- 
possession,  as  for  the  first  time  I  clasped  the  hand  of 
Luella  Knapp. 

Was  it  the  thrill  of  her  touch,  the  glance  of  her 
eye,  or  the  magnetism  of  her  presence,  that  set  my 
pulses  beating  to  a  new  measure,  and  gave  my  spirit 


LUELLA    KNAPP  113 

a  breath  from  a  new  world  ?  Whatever  the  cause,  as 
I  looked  into  the  clear-cut  face  and  the  frank  gray 
eyes  of  the  woman  before  me,  I  was  swept  by  a  flood 
of  emotion  that  was  near  overpowering  my  self- 
control. 

Nor  was  it  altogether  the  emotion  of  pleasure  that 
was  roused  within  me.  As  I  looked  into  her  eyes, 
I  had  the  pain  of  seeing  myself  in  a  light  that  had 
not  as  yet  come  to  me.  I  saw  myself  not  the  friend 
of  Henry  Wilton,  on  the  high  mission  of  bringing 
to  justice  the  man  who  had  foully  sent  him  to  death. 
In  that  flash  I  saw  Giles  Dudley  hiding  under  a 
false  name,  entering  this  house  to  seek  for  another 
link  in  the  chain  that  would  drag  this  girl's  father 
to  the  gallows  and  turn  her  life  to  bitterness  and 
misery.  And  in  the  reflection  from  the  clear  depths 
of  the  face  before  me,  I  saw  Imposter  and  Spy  writ 
ten  large  on  my  forehead. 

I  mastered  the  emotion  in  a  moment  and  took  the 
seat  to  which  she  had  waved  me. 

I  was  puzzled  a  little  at  the  tone  in  which  she  ad 
dressed  me.  There  was  a  suggestion  of  resentment 
in  her  manner  that  grew  on  me  as  we  talked. 

Can  I  describe  her?  Of  what  use  to  try?  She  was 
not  beautiful,  and  "pretty"  was  too  petty  a  word  to 
apply  to  Luella  Knapp.  "Fine  looking,"  if  said  with 
the  proper  emphasis,  might  give  some  idea  of  her 
appearance,  for  she  was  tall  in  figure,  with  features 
that  were  impressive  in  their  attractiveness.  Yet  her 
main  charm  was  in  the  light  that  her  spirit  and  in- 


114  BLINDFOLDED 

telligence  threw  on  her  face;  and  this  no  one  can 
describe. 

The  brightness  of  her  speech  did  not  disappoint 
the  expectation  I  had  thus  formed  of  her.  It  was  a 
finely-cultivated  mind  that  was  revealed  to  me,  and 
it  held  a  wit  rare  to  woman.  I  followed  her  lead  in 
the  conversational  channel,  giving  but  a  guiding 
oar  when  it  turned  toward  acquaintances  she  held 
in  common  with  Henry  Wilton,  or  events  that  had 
interested  them  together. 

Through  it  all  the  idea  that  Miss  Knapp  was  re 
garding  me  with  a  hidden  disapproval  was  growing 
on  me.  I  decided  that  Henry  had  made  some  un 
common  blunder  on  his  last  visit  and  that  I  was  suf 
fering  the  penalty  for  it.  The  admiration  I  felt  for 
the  young  woman  deepened  with  every  sentence  she 
spoke,  and  I  was  ready  to  do  anything  to  restore 
the  good  opinion  that  Henry  might  have  endan 
gered,  and  in  lieu  of  apology  exerted  myself  to  the 
utmost  to  be  agreeable. 

I  was  unconscious  of  the  flight  of  time  until  Mrs. 
Knapp  turned  from  some  other  guests  and  walked 
toward  us. 

"Come,  Henry,"  she  said  pointedly,  "Luella  is  not 
to  monopolize  you  all  the  time.  Besides,  there's  Mr. 
Inman  dying  to  speak  to  her." 

I  promptly  hated  Mr.  Inman  with  all  my  heart 
and  felt  not  the  slightest  objection  to  his  demise; 
but  at  her  gesture  of  command  I  rose  and  accom 
panied  Mrs.  Knapp,  as  a  young  man  with  eye-glasses 


LUELLA    KNAPP  115 

and  a  smirk  came  to  take  my  place.  I  left  Luella 
Knapp,  congratulating  myself  over  my  cleverness 
in  escaping  the  pitfalls  that  lined  my  way. 

"Now  I've  a  chance  to  speak  to  you  at  last,"  said 
Mrs.  Knapp. 

"At  your  service,"  I  bowed.  "I  owe  you  some 
thing." 

"Indeed?"  Mrs.  Knapp  raised  her  eyebrows  in 
surprise. 

"For  your  kind  recommendation  to  Mr.  Knapp." 

"My  recommendation?  You  have  a  little  the  ad 
vantage  of  me." 

I  was  stricken  with  painful  doubts,  and  the  cold 
sweat  started  upon  me.  Perhaps  this  was  not  Mrs. 
Knapp  after  all. 

"Oh,  perhaps  you  didn't  mean  it,"  I  said. 

"Indeed  I  did,  if  it  was  a  recommendation.  I'm 
afraid  it  was  unconscious,  though.  Mr.  Knapp  does 
not  consult  me  about  his  business." 

I  was;  in  doubt  no  longer.  It  was  the  injured  pride 
of  the  wife  that  spoke  in  the  tone. 

"I'm  none  the  less  obliged,"  I  said  carelessly.  "He 
assured  me  that  he  acted  on  your  words." 

"What  on  earth  are  you  doing  for  Mr.  Knapp?" 
she  asked  earnestly,  dropping  her  half-bantering 
tone.  There  was  a  trace  of  apprehension  in  her  eyes. 

"I'm  afraid  Mr.  Knapp  wouldn't  think  your  rec 
ommendations  were  quite  justified  if  I  should  tell 
you.  Just  get  him  in  a  corner  and  ask  him." 

"I  suppose  it  is  that  dreadful  stock  market." 


ii6  BLINDFOLDED 

"Oh,  madam,  let  me  say  the  chicken  market. 
There  is  a  wonderful  opportunity  just  now  for  a 
corner  in  fowls." 

"There  are  a  good  many  to  be  plucked  in  the 
market  that  Mr.  Knapp  will  look  after,"  she  said 
with  a  smile.  But  there  was  something  of  a  worried 
look  behind  it.  "Oh,  you  know,  Henry,  that  I  can't 
bear  the  market.  I  have  seen  too  much  of  the  misery 
that  has  come  from  it.  It  can  eat  up  a  fortune  in  an 
hour.  A  dear  friend  saw  her  home,  the  house  over 
her  head,  all  she  possessed,  go  in  a  breath  on  a  turn 
of  the  cards  in  that  dreadful  place.  And  her  hus 
band  left  her  to  face  it  with  two  little  children.  The 
coward  escaped  it  with  a  bullet  through  his  head, 
after  he  had  brought  ruin  on  his  home  and  family." 

She  shuddered  as  she  looked  about  her,  as  though 
in  fancy  she  saw  herself  turned  from  the  palace  into 
the  street. 

"Mr.  Knapp  is  not  a  man  to  lose,"  I  said. 

"Mr.  Knapp  is  a  strong  man,"  she  said  with  a 
proud  straightening  of  her  figure.  "But  the  whirl 
pool  can  suck  down  the  strongest  swimmer." 

"But  I  suspect  Mr.  Knapp  makes  whirlpools  in 
stead  of  swimming  into  them,"  I  said  meaningly. 

"Ah,  Henry,"  she  said  sadly,  "how  often  have  I 
told  you  that  the  best  plan  may  come  to  ruin  in  the 
market?  It  may  not  take  much  to  start  a  boulder 
rolling  down  the  mountain-side,  but  who  is  to  tell 
it  to  stop  when  once  it  is  set  going?" 

"I  think,"  said  I,  smiling,  "that  Mr.  Knapp  would 


LUELLAKNAPP  117 

ride  the  boulder  and  find  himself  in  a  gold  mine  at 
the  end  of  the  journey." 

"Perhaps.  But  you're  not  telling  me  what  Mr. 
Knapp  is  doing." 

"He  can  tell  you  much  better  than  I." 

"No  doubt,"  she  said  with  a  trace  of  sarcasm  in 
her  voice. 

"And  here  he  comes  to  do  it,  I  expect,"  I  said,  as 
the  tall  figure  of  the  King  of  the  Street  appeared  in 
the  doorway  opposite. 

"I'm  afraid  1  shall  have  to  depend  on  the  news 
papers,"  she  said.  "Mr.  Knapp  is  as  much  afraid  of 
a  woman's  tongue  as  you  are.  Oh,"  she  continued 
after  a  moment's  pause,  "I  was  going  to  make  you 
give  an  account  of  yourself;  but  since  you  will  tell 
nothing  I  must  introduce  you  to  my  cousin,  Mrs. 
Bowser."  And  she  led  me,  unresisting,  to  a  short, 
sharp- featured  woman  of  sixty  or  thereabouts,  who 
rustled  her  silks,  and  in  a  high,  thin  voice  professed 
herself  charmed  to  see  me. 

She  might  have  claimed  and  held  the  record  as 
the  champion  of  the  conversational  ring.  I  had 
never  met  her  equal  before,  nor  have  I  met  one  to 
surpass  her  since. 

Had  I  been  long  in  the  city?  She  had  been  here 
only  a  week.  Came  from  down  Maine  way.  This 
was  a  dear,  dreadful  city  with  such  nice  people  and 
such  dreadful  winds,  wasn't  it?  And  then  she  gave 
me  a  catalogue  of  the  places  she  had  visited,  and  the 
attractions  of  San  Francisco,  with  a  wealth  of  de- 


ii8  BLINDFOLDED 

tail  and  a  poverty  of  interest  that  was  little  less  than 
marvelous. 

Fortunately  she  required  nothing  but  an  occa 
sional  murmur  of  assent  in  the  way  of  answer  'from 
me. 

I  looked  across  the  room  to  the  corner  where 
,Luella  was  entertaining  the  insignificant  Inman. 
How  vivacious  and  intelligent  she  appeared!  Her 
face  and  figure  grew  on  me  in  attractiveness,  and 
I  felt  that  I  was  being  very  badly  used.  As  I  came 
to  this  point  I  was  roused  by  the  sound  of  two  low 
voices  that  just  behind  me  were  plainly  audible  un 
der  the  shrill  treble  of  Mrs.  Bowser.  They  were 
women  with  their  heads  close  in  gossip. 

"Shocking,  isn't  it?"  said  one. 

"Dreadful!"  said  the  other.  "It  gives  me  the 
creeps  to  think  of  it." 

"Why  don't  they  lock  him  up?  Such  a  creature 
shouldn't  be  allowed  to  go  at  large." 

"Oh,  you  see,  maybe  they  can't  be  sure  about  it. 
But  I've  heard  it's  a  case  of  family  pride." 

I  was  recalled  from  this  dialogue  by  Mrs.  Bow 
ser's  fan  on  my  arm,  and  her  shrill  voice  in  my  ear 
with,  "What  is  your  idea  about  it,  Mr.  Wilton  ?" 

"I  think  you  are  perfectly  right,"  I  said  heartily, 
as  she  paused  for  an  answer. 

"Then  I'll  arrange  it  with  the  others  at  once,"  she 
said. 

This  was  a  bucket  of  ice-water  on  me.  I  had 
not  the  first  idea  to  what  I  had  committed  myself. 


LUELLA   KNAPP  119 

"No,  don't,"  I  said.  "Wait  till  we  have  tJrne  to 
discuss  it  again." 

"Oh,  we  can  decide  on  the  time  whenever  you 
like.  Will  some  night  week  after  next  suit  you?" 

I  had  to  throw  myself  on  the  mercy  of  the  enemy. 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  getting  rather  absent-minded,"  I 
said  humbly.  "I  was  looking  at  Miss  Knapp  and 
lost  the  thread  of  the  discourse  for  a  minute." 

"That's  what  I  was  talking  about,"  she  said 
sharply, — "about  taking  her  and  the  rest  of  us 
through  Chinatown." 

"Yes,  yes.  I  remember,"  I  said  unblushingly. 
"If  I  can  get  away  from  business,  I'm  at  your  ser 
vice  at  any  time." 

Then  Mrs.  Bowser  wandered  on  with  the  arrange 
ments  she  would  find  necessary  to  make,  and  I  heard 
one  of  the  low  voices  behind  me : 

"Now  this  is  a  profound  secret,  you  know.  I 
wouldn't  have  them  know  for  the  world  that  any  one 
suspects.  I  just  heard  it  this  week,  myself." 

"Oh,  I  wouldn't  dare  breathe  it  to  a  soul,"  said 
the  other.  "But  I'm  sure  I  shan't  sleep  a  wink  to 
night,"  And  they  moved  away. 

I  interrupted  Mrs.  Bowser  to  explain  that  I  must 
speak  to  Mrs.  Knapp,  and  made  my  escape  as  some 
one  stopped  to  pass  a  word  with  her. 

"Oh,  must  you  go,  Henry?"  said  Mrs.  Knapp. 
"Well,  you  must  come  again  soon.  We  miss  you 
when  you  stay  away.  Don't  let  Mr.  Knapp  keep  you 
too  closely." 


120  BLINDFOLDED 

I  professed  myself  happy  to  come  whenever  I 
could  find  the  time,  and  looked  about  for  Luella. 
She  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  I  left  the  room  a  little 
disappointed,  but  with  a  swelling  of  pride  that  I  had 
passed  the  dreaded  ordeal  and  had  been  accepted  as 
Henry  Wilton  in  the  house  in  which  I  had  most 
feared  to  meet  disaster.  My  opinion  of  my  own 
cleverness  had  risen,  in  the  language  of  the  market, 
"above  par." 

As  I  passed  down  the  hall,  a  tall  willowy  figure 
stepped  from  the  shadow  of  the  stair.  My  heart 
gave  a  bound  of  delight.  It  was  Luella  Knapp.  I 
should  have  the  pleasure  of  a  leave-taking  in  private. 

"Oh,  Miss  Knapp!"  I  said.  "I  had  despaired  of 
having  the  chance  to  bid  you  good  night."  And  I 
held  out  my  hand. 

She  ignored  the  hand.  I  could  see  from  her  heav 
ing  bosom  and  shortened  breath  that  she  was  labor 
ing  under  great  agitation.  Yet  her  face  gave  no 
evidence  of  the  effort  that  it  cost  her  to  control  her 
self. 

"I  was  waiting  for  you,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

I  started  to  express  my  gratification  when  she  in 
terrupted  me. 

"Who  are  you?"  broke  from  her  lips  almost 
fiercely. 

I  was  completely  taken  aback,  and  stared  at  her 
in  amazement  with  no  word  at  command. 

"You  are  not  Henry  Wilton,"  she  said  rapidly. 
"You  have  come  here  with  his  name  and  his  clothes, 


LUELLAKNAPP  121 

and  made  up  to  look  like  him,  and  you  try  to  use  his 
voice  and  take  his  place.  Who  are  you  ?" 

There  was  a  depth  of  scorn  and  anger  and  appre 
hension  in  that  low  voice  of  hers  that  struck  me 
dumb. 

"Can  you  not  answer?"  she  demanded,  catching 
her  breath  with  excitement.  "You  are  not  Henry 
Wilton." 

"Well?"  I  said  half-inquiringly.  It  was  not  safe 
to  advance  or  retreat. 

"Well — !  well — !"  She  repeated  my  answer,  with 
indignation  and  disdain  deepening  in  her  voice.  "Is 
that  all  you  have  to  say  for  yourself  ?" 

"What  should  I  say?"  I  replied  quietly.  "You 
make  an  assertion.  Is  there  anything  more  to  be 
said?" 

"Oh,  you  may  laugh  at  me  if  you  please,  because 
you  can  hoodwink  the  others." 

I  protested  that  laughter  was  the  last  thing  I  was 
thinking  of  at  the  moment. 

Then  she  burst  out  impetuously : 

"Oh,  if  I  were  only  a  man !  No ;  if  I  were  a  man 
I  should  be  hoodwinked  like  the  rest.  But  you  can 
not  deceive  me.  Who  are  you  ?  What  are  you  here 
for  ?  What  are  you  trying  to  do  ?" 

She  was  blazing  with  wrath.  Her  tone  had  raised 
hardly  an  interval  of  the  scale,  but  every  word  that 
came  in  that  smooth,  low  voice  was  heavy  with  con 
tempt  and  anger.  It  was  the  true  daughter  of  the 
Wolf  who  stood  before  me. 


122  BLINDFOLDED 

"I  am  afraid,  Miss  Knapp,  you  are  not  well  to 
night,"  I  said  soothingly. 

"What  have  you  done  with  Henry  Wilton?"  she 
asked  fiercely.  "Don't  try  to  speak  with  his  voice. 
Drop  your  disguise.  You  are  no  actor.  You  are  no 
more  like  him  than — " 

The  simile  failed  her  in  her  wrath. 

"Satyr  to  Hyperion,"  I  quoted  bitterly.  "Make  it 
strong,  please." 

I  had  thought  myself  in  a  tight  place  in  the  row 
at  Borton's,  but  it  was  nothing  to  this  encounter. 

"Oh,  where  is  he?  What  has  happened?"  she 
cried. 

"Nothing  has  happened,"  I  said  calmly,  determin 
ing  at  last  to  brazen  it  out.  I  could  not  tell  her  the 
truth.  "My  name  is  Henry  Wilton." 

She  looked  at  me  in  anger  a  moment,  and  then  a 
shadow  of  dread  and  despair  settled  over  her  face. 

I  was  tempted  beyond  measure  to  throw  myself 
on  her  mercy  and  tell  all.  The  subtle  sympathy  that 
she  inspired  was  softening  my  resolution.  Yet,  as  I 
looked  into  her  eyes,  her  face  hardened,  and  her 
wrath  blazed  forth  once  more. 

"Go!"  she  said.  "I  hope  I  may  never  see  you 
again !"  And  she  turned  and  ran  swiftly  up  the  stair. 
I  thought  I  heard  a  sob,  but  whether  of  anger  or 
sorrow  I  knew  not. 

And  I  went  out  into  the  night  with  a  heavier  load 
of  depression  than  I  had  borne  since  I  entered  the 
city. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A   DAY   OF   GRACE 

The  wind  blew  strong  and  moist  and  salt  from 
the  western  ocean  as  I  walked  down  the  steps  into 
the  semi-darkness  of  Pine  Street.  But  it  was  power 
less  to  cool  the  hot  blood  that  surged  into  my  cheeks 
in  the  tumult  of  emotion  that  followed  my  dismissal 
by  Luella  Knapp.  I  was  furious  at  the  poor  figure 
I  had  cut  in  her  sight,  at  the  insults  I  had  been 
forced  to  bear  without  reply,  and  at  the  hopelessness 
of  setting  myself  right.  Yet,  more  than  all  was  I 
sick  at  heart  at  the  dreadful  task  before  me.  My 
spirit  was  bleeding  from  every  stab  that  this  girl 
had  dealt  me ;  yet  I  had  to  confess  that  her  outburst 
of  rage  had  challenged  my  admiration  even  more 
than  her  brightness  in  the  hour  that  had  gone  be 
fore.  How  could  I  go  through  with  my  work  ?  How 
could  I  bear  to  overwhelm  her  with  the  sorrow  and 
disgrace  that  must  crush  on  her  if  I  proved  to  the 
world  the  awful  facts  that  were  burned  on  my 
brain  ? 

Resolve,  shame,  despair,  fought  with  each  other 
in  the  tumult  in  my  mind  as  I  passed  between  the 
bronze  lions  and  took  my  way  down  the  street. 

123 


124  BLINDFOLDED 

I  was  called  out  of  my  distractions  with  a  sudden 
start  as  though  a  bucket  of  cold  water  had  been 
thrown  over  me.  I  had  proceeded  not  twenty  feet 
when  I  saw  two  dark  forms  across  the  street.  They 
had,  it  struck  me,  been  waiting  for  my  appearance, 
for  one  ran  to  join  the  other  and  both  hastened  to 
ward  the  corner  as  though  to  be  ready  to  meet  me. 

I  could  not  retreat  to  the  house  of  the  Wolf  that 
loomed  forbiddingly  behind  me.  There  was  nothing 
to  do  but  to  go  forward  and  trust  to  my  good  for 
tune,  and  I  shifted  my  revolver  to  the  side-pocket  of 
my  overcoat  as  I  stepped  briskly  to  the  corner. 
Then  I  stopped  under  the  lamp-post  to  reconnoiter. 

The  two  men  who  had  roused  my  apprehensions 
did  not  offer  to  cross  the  street,  but  slackened  their 
pace  and  strolled  slowly  along  on  the  other  side.  I 
noted  that  it  seemed  a  long  way  between  street- 
lamps  thereabouts.  I  could  see  none  between  the  one 
under  which  I  was  standing  and  the  brow  of  the  hill 
below.  Then  it  occurred  to  me  that  this  circum 
stance  might  not  be  due  to  the  caprice  of  the  street 
department  of  the  city  government,  but  to  the 
thoughtfulness  of  the  gentlemen  who  were  paying 
such  close  attention  to  my  affairs.  I  decided  that 
there  were  better  ways  to  get  down  town  than  were 
offered  by  Pine  Street. 

To  the  south  the  cross-street  stretched  to  Market 
with  an  unbroken  array  of  lights,  and  as  my  unwary 
watchers  had  disappeared  in  the  darkness,  I  hast 
ened  down  the  incline  with  so  little  regard  for 


A   DAY   OF   GRACE  125 

dignity  that  I  found  myself  running  for  a  Sutter 
Street  car — and  caught  it,  too.  As  I  swung  on  to 
the  platform  I  looked  back;  but  I  saw  no  sign  of 
bkulking  figures  before  the  car  swept  past  the  corner 
and  blotted  the  street  from  sight. 

The  incident  gave  me  a  distaste  for  the  idea  of 
going  back  to  Henry  Wilton's  room  at  this  time  of 
the  night.  So  as  Montgomery  Street  was  reached 
I  stepped  into  the  Lick  House,  where  I  felt  reason 
ably  sure  that  I  might  get  at  least  one  night's  sleep, 
free  from  the  haunting  fear  of  the  assassin. 

But,  once  more  safe,  the  charms  of  Luella  Knapp 
again  claimed  the  major  part  of  my  thoughts,  and 
when  I  went  to  sleep  it  was  with  her  scornful  words 
ringing  in  my  ears.  I  awoke  in  the  darkness — per 
haps  it  was  in  but  a  few  minutes — with  the  confused 
dream  that  Luella  Knapp  was  seized  in  the  grasp  of 
the  snake-eyed  Terrill,  and  I  was  struggling  to  come 
to  her  assistance  and  seize  him  by  his  hateful  throat. 
But,  becoming  calm  from  this  exciting  vision,  I 
slept  soundly  until  the  morning  sun  peeped  into  the 
room  with  the  cheerful  announcement  that  a  new 
day  was  born. 

In  the  fresh  morning  air  and  the  bright  morning 
light,  I  felt  that  I  might  have  been  unduly  sus 
picious  and  had  fled  from  harmless  citizens;  and  I 
was  ashamed  that  I  had  lacked  courage  to  return  to 
Henry's  room  as  I  made  my  way  thither  for  a 
change  of  clothes.  I  thought  better  of  my  decision, 
however,  as  I  stepped  within  the  gloomy  walls  of 


126  BLINDFOLDED 

the  house  of  mystery,  and  my  footfalls  echoed 
through  the  chilling  silence  of  the  halls.  And  I  lost 
all  regret  over  my  night's  lack  of  courage  when  I 
reached  my 'door.  It  was  swung  an  inch  ajar,  and 
as  I  approached  I  thought  I  saw  it  move. 

"I'm  certain  I  locked  it,"  was  my  inward  com- 
fment. 

I  stopped  short  and  hunted  my  revolver  from  my 
overcoat  pocket.  I  was  nervous  for  a  moment,  and 
angry  at  the  inattention  that  might  have  cost  me  my 
life. 

"Who's  there?"  I  demanded. 

No  reply. 

I  gave  a  knock  on  the  door  at  long  reach. 

There  was  no  sound  and  I  gave  it  a  push  that  sent 
it  open  while  I  prudently  kept  behind  the  fortifica 
tion  of  the  casing.  As  no  developments  followed 
this  move,  I  peeped  through  the  door  in  cautious  in 
vestigation.  The  room  was  ^aite  empty,  and  I 
walked  in. 

The  sight  that  met  my  eyes  was  astonishing. 
Clothes,  books,  papers,  were  scattered  over  the  floor 
and  bed  and  chairs.  The  carpet  had  been  partly 
ripped  up,  the  mattress  torn  apart,  the  closet  cleared 
out,  and  every  corner  of  the  room  had  been  ran 
sacked. 

It  was  clear  to  my  eye  that  this  was  no  ordinary 
case  of  robbery.  The  search,  it  was  evident,  was  not 
for  money  and  jewelry  alone,  and  bulkier  property 
had  been  despised.  The  men  who  had  torn  the  place 


A   DAY   OF   GRACE  127 

to  pieces  must,  I  surmised,  have  been  after  papers 
of  some  kind. 

I  came  at  once  to  the  conclusion  that  I  had  been 
favored  by  a  visit  from  my  friends,  the  enemy.  As 
they  had  failed  to  find  me  in,  they  had  looked  for 
some  written  memoranda  of  the  object  of  their 
search. 

I  knew  well  that  they  had  found  nothing  among 
the  clothing  or  papers  that  Henry  had  left  behind.  I 
had  searched  through  these  myself,  and  the  sole 
document  that  could  bear  on  the  mystery  was  at  that 
moment  fast  in  my  inside  pocket.  I  was  inclined  to 
scout  the  idea  that  Henry  Wilton  had  hidden  any 
thing  under  the  carpet,  or  in  the  mattress,  or  in  any 
secret  place.  The  threads  of  the  mystery  were  car 
ried  in  his  head,  and  the  correspondence,  if  there 
had  been  any,  was  destroyed. 

As  I  was  engaged  in  putting  the  room  to  rights, 
the  door  swung  back,  and  I  jumped  to  my  feet  to 
face  a  man  who  stood  on  the  threshold. 

"Hello!"  he  cried.    "House-cleaning  again?" 

It  was  Dicky  Nahl,  and  he  paused  with  a  smile  on 
his  face. 

"Ah,  Dicky !"  I  said  with  an  effort  to  keep  out  of 
my  face  and  voice  the  suspicions  I  had  gained  from 
the  incidents  of  the  visit  to  the  Borton  place.  "En 
tirely  unpremeditated,  I  assure  you." 

"Well,  you're  making  a  thorough  job  of  it,"  he 
said  with  a  laugh. 

"Fact  is,"  said  I  ruefully,  "I've  been  entertaining 


128  BLINDFOLDED 

angels — of  the  black  kind — unawares.  I  was  from 
home  last  night,  and  I  find  that  somebody  has  made 
himself  free  with  my  property  while  I  was  away." 

"Whew!"  whistled  Dicky.  "Guess  they  were 
after  you." 

I  gave  Dicky  a  sidelong  glance  in  a  vain  effort  to 
catch  more  of  his  meaning  than  was  conveyed  by 
his  words. 

"Shouldn't  be  surprised,"  I  replied  dryly,  picking 
up  an  armful  of  books.  "I'd  expect  them  to  be  look 
ing  for  me  in  the  book-shelf,  or  inside  the  mattress- 
cover,  or  under  the  carpet." 

Dicky  laughed  joyously. 

"Well,  they  did  rather  turn  things  upside  down," 
he  chuckled.  "Did  they  get  anything?"  And  he  fell 
to  helping  me  zealously. 

"Not  that  I  can  find  out,"  I  replied.  "Nothing  of 
value,  anyhow." 

"Not  any  papers,  or  anything  of  that  sort?"  asked 
Dicky  anxiously. 

"Dicky,  my  boy,"  said  I ;  "there  are  two  kinds  of 
fools.  The  other  is  the  man  who  writes  his  business 
on  a  sheet  of  paper  and  forgets  to  burn  it." 

Dicky  grinned  merrily. 

"Gad,  you're  getting  a  turn  for  epigram !  You'll 
be  writing  for  the  Argonaut,  first  we  know." 

"Well,  you'll  allow  me  a  shade  of  common  sense, 
won't  you  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Dicky,  considering  the  prop 
osition  doubtfully.  "It  might  have  been  awkward  if 


A  DAY   OF   GRACE  129 

you  had  left  anything  lying  about.  But  if  you  had 
real  good  sense  you'd  have  had  the  guards  here. 
What  are  you  paying  them  for,  anyhow  ?" 

I  saw  difficulties  in  the  way  of  explaining  to 
Dicky  why  I  had  not  ordered  the  guards  on  duty. 

"Oh,  by  the  way,"  said  Dicky  suddenly,  before  a 
suitable  reply  had  come  to  me;  "how  about  the 
scads — spondulicks — you  know?  Yesterday  was 
pay-day,  but  you  didn't  show  up." 

I  don't  know  whether  my  jaw  dropped  or  not. 
My  spirits  certainly  did. 

"By  Jove,  Dicky!"  I  exclaimed,  catching  my 
breath.  "It  slipped  my  mind,  clean.  I  haven't  got 
at  our — ahem — banker,  either." 

I  saw  now  what  that  mysterious  money  was  for — 
or  a  part  of  it,  at  all  events.  What  I  did  not  see  was 
how  I  was  to  get  it,  and  how  to  pay  it  to  my  men. 

"That's  rough,"  said  Dicky  sympathetically.  "I'm 
dead  broke." 

It  would  appear  then  that  Dicky  looked  to  me  for 
pay,  whether  or  not  he  felt  bound  to  me  in  service. 

"There's  one  thing  I'd  like  explained  before  a 
settlement,"  said  I  grimly,  as  I  straightened  out  the 
carpet;  "and  that  is  the  little  performance  for  my 
benefit  the  other  night." 

Dicky  cocked  his  head  on  one  side,  and  gave  me 
an  uneasy  glance. 

"Explanation?"  he  said  in  affected  surprise. 

"Yes,"  said  I  sternly,  "It  looked  like  a  plant.  I 
was  within  one  of  getting  a  knife  in  me." 


130  BLINDFOLDED 

"What  became  of  you?"  inquired  Dicky.  "We 
looked  around  for  you  for  an  hour,  and  were  afraid 
you  had  been  carried  off." 

"That's  all  right,  Dicky,"  I  said.  "I  know  how  I 
got  out.  What  I  want  to  know  is  how  I  got  in — 
taken  in." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Dicky  anxiously.  "I  was 
regularly  fooled,  myself.  I  thought  they  were  fisher 
men,  all  right  enough,  and  I  never  thought  that  Ter- 
rill  had  the  nerve  to  come  in  there.  I  was  fooled  by 
his  disguise,  and  he  gave  the  word,  and  I  thought 
sure  that  Richmond  had  sent  him."  Dicky  had 
dropped  all  banter,  and  was  speaking  with  the  tone 
of  sincerity. 

"Well,  it's  all  right  now,  but  I  don't  want  any 
more  slips  of  that  sort.  Who  was  hurt  ?" 

"Trent  got  a  bad  cut  in  the  side.  One  of  the  Ter- 
rill  gang  was  shot.  I  heard  it  was  only  through  the 
arm  or  leg,  I  forget  which." 

I  was  consumed  with  the  desire  to  ask  what  had 
become  of  Borton's,  but  I  suspected  that  I  was  sup 
posed  to  know,  and  prudently  kept  the  question  to 
myself. 

"Well,  come  along,"  said  I.  "The  room  will  do 
well  enough  now.  Oh,  here's  a  ten,  and  I'll  let  you 
know  as  soon  as  I  get  the  rest.  Where  can  I  find 
you?" 

"At  the  old  place,"  said  Dicky;  "three  twenty- 


six." 


"Clay?"  I  asked  in  desperation. 


A   DAY    OF    GRACE  131 

Dicky  gave  me  a  wondering  look  as  though  he 
suspected  my  mind  was  going. 

"No — Geary.   What's  the  matter  with  you?" 

"Oh,  to  be  sure.  Geary  Street,  of  course.  Well, 
let  me  know  if  anything  turns  up.  Keep  a  close 
watch  on  things."  1 

Dicky  looked  at  me  in  some  apparent  perplexity 
as  I  walked  up  the  stair  to  my  Clay  Street  office,  but 
gave  only  some  laughing  answer  as  he  turned  back. 

But  I  \vas  in  far  from  a  laughing  humor  myself. 
The  problem  of  paying  the  men  raised  fresh  pros 
pects  of  trouble,  and  I  reflected  grimly  that  if  the 
money  was  not  found  I  might  be  in  more  danger 
from  my  unpaid  mercenaries  than  from  the  enemy. 

Ten  o'clock  passed,  and  eleven,  with  no  sign  from 
Doddridge  Knapp,  and  I  wondered  if  the  news  I 
had  carried  him  of  the  activities  of  Terrill  and  of 
Decker  had  disarranged  his  plans. 

I  tried  the  door  into  Room  16.  It  was  locked,  and 
no  sound  came  to  my  ears  from  behind  it. 

"I  should  really  like  to  know,"  I  thought  to  my 
self,  "whether  Mr.  Doddridge  Knapp  has  left  any 
papers  in  his  desk  that  might  bear  on  the  Wilton 
mystery." 

I  tried  my  keys,  but  none  of  them  fitted  the  lock. 
I  gave  up  the  attempt — indeed,  my  mind  shrank 
from  the  idea  of  going  through  my  employer's  pa 
pers — but  the  desire  of  getting  a  key  that  would 
open  the  door  was  planted  in  my  brain. 

Twelve  o'clock  came.    No  Doddridge  Knapp  had 


132  BLINDFOLDED 

appeared,  and  I  sauntered  down  to  the  Exchange  to 
pick  up  any  items  of  news.  It  behooved  me  to  be 
looking  out  for  Doddridge  Knapp's  movements. 
If  he  had  got  another  agent  to  carry  out  his  schemes, 
I  should  have  to  prepare  my  lines  for  attack  from 
another  direction. 

Wallbridge  was  just  coming  rapidly  out  of  the 
Exchange. 

"No,"  said  the  little  man,  mopping  the  perspira 
tion  from  his  shining  head,  "quiet  as  lambs  to-day. 
Their  own  mothers  wouldn't  have  known  the  Board 
from  a  Sunday-school." 
I  inquired  about  Omega. 

"Flat  as  a  pancake,"  said  the  little  man.  "Nothing 
doing." 

"What!  Is  it  down?"  I  exclaimed  with  some 
astonishment. 

"Lord  bless  you,  no !"  said  Wallbridge,  surprised 
in  his  turn.  "Strong  and  steady  at  eighty,  but  we 
didn't  sell  a  hundred  shares  to-day.  Well,  I'm  in 
a  rush.  Good-by,  if  you  don't  want  to  buy  or  sell." 
And  he  hurried  off  without  waiting  for  a  reply. 

So  I  was  now  assured  that  Doddridge  Knapp  had 
jnot  displaced  me  in  the  Omega  deal.  It  was  a  recess 
to  prepare  another  surprise  for  the  Street,  and  I  had 
time  to  attend  to  a  neglected  duty. 

The  undertaker's  shop  that  held  the  morgue 
looked  hardly  less  gloomy  in  the  afternoon  sun  than 
in  the  light  of  breaking  day  in  which  I  had  left  it 
when  I  parted  from  Detective  Coogan.  The  office 


ADAYOFGRACE  133 

was  decorated  mournfully  to  accord  with  the  grief 
of  friends  who  ordered  the  coffins,  or  the  feelings 
of  the  surviving  relatives  on  settling  the  bills. 

"I  am  Henry  Wilton,"  I  explained  to  the  man  in 
charge.  'There  was  a  body  left  here  by  Detective 
Coogan  to  my  order,  I  believe." 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  said:  "What  do  you  want  done 
with  it?" 

I  explained  that  I  wished  to  arrange  to  have  it 
deposited  in  a  vault  for  a  time,  as  I  might  carry  it 
East. 

"That's  easy  done,"  he  said ;  and  he  explained  the 
details.  "Would  you  like  to  see  the  body?"  he  con 
cluded.  "We  embalmed  it  on  the  strength  of  Coog- 
an's  order." 

I  shrank  from  another  look  at  the  battered  form. 
The  awfulness  of  the  tragedy  came  upon  me  with 
hardly  less  force  than  in  the  moment  when  I  had 
first  faced  the  mangled  and  bleeding  body  on  the 
slab  in  the  dead-room.  Again  I  saw  the  scene  in 
the  alley;  again  his  last  cry  for  help  rang  in  my 
ears;  again  I  retraced  the  dreadful  experiences  of 
the  night,  and  stood  in  the  dim  horror  of  the  morgue 
with  the  questioning  voice  of  the  detective  echoing 
beside  me;  and  again  did  that  wolf- face  rise  out  of 
the  lantern-flash  over  the  body  of  the  man  whose 
death  it  had  caused. 

The  undertaker  was  talking,  but  I  knew  not  what 
he  said.  I  was  shaking  with  the  horror  and  grief 
of  the  situation,  and  in  that  moment  I  renewed  my 


134  BLINDFOLDED 

vow  to  have  blood  for  blood  and  life  for  life,  if  law 
and  justice  were  to  be  had. 

"We'll  take  it  out  any  time/'  said  the  undertaker, 
with  a  decorous  reflection  of  my  grief  upon  his  face. 
"Would  you  like  to  accompany  the  remains?" 

I  decided  that  I  would. 

"Well,  there's  nothing  doing  now.  We  can  start 
as  soon  as  we  have  sealed  the  casket." 

"As  soon  as  you  can.  There's  nothing  to  wait 
for." 

The  ride  to  the  cemetery  took  me  through  a  part 
of  San  Francisco  that  I  had  not  yet  seen.  Flying 
battalions  of  fog  advanced  swiftly  upon  us  as  we 
faced  the  West,  and  the  day  grew  pale  and  ghost 
like.  The  gray  masses  were  pouring  fast  over  the 
hills  toward  which  we  struggled,  and  the  ranks 
thickened  as  we  drew  near  the  burial-place. 

I  paid  little  attention  to  the  streets  through  which 
we  passed.  My  mind  was  on  the  friend  whose 
name  I  had  taken,  whose  work  I  was  to  do.  I  was 
back  with  him  in  our  boyhood  days,  and  lived  again 
for  the  fleeting  minutes  the  life  we  had  lived  in 
common ;  and  the  resolve  grew  stronger  on  me  that 
his  fate  should  be  avenged. 

And  yet  a  face  came  between  me  and  the  dead — 
a  proud  face,  with  varying  moods  reflected  upon  it, 
now  gay,  now  scornful,  now  lighted  with  intelli 
gence  and  mirth,  now  blazing  with  anger.  But  it 
was  powerless  to  shake  my  resolve.  Not  even  Lu- 
ella  Knapp  should  stand  between  me  and  vengeance. 


A   DAY   OF   GRACE  135 

"There's  the  place,"  said  the  undertaker,  point 
ing  to  the  vault.  "I'll  have  it  opened  directly." 

The  scene  was  in  accord  with  my  feelings.  The 
gray  day  gave  a  somber  air  to  the  trees  and  flowers 
that  grew  about.  The  white  tombstones  and  oc 
casional  monuments  to  be  seen  were  sad  reminders 
of  mortality. 

Below  me  stretched  the  city,  half -concealed  by 
the  magic  drapery  of  the  fog  that  streamed  through 
it,  turning  it  from  a  place  of  wood  and  stone  into 
a  fantastic  illusion,  heavy  with  gloom  and  sorrow. 

It  was  soon  over.  The  body  of  Henry  Wilton  was 
committed  to  the  vault  with  the  single  mourner 
looking  on,  and  we  drove  rapidly  back  in  the  failing 
light. 

I  had  given  my  address  at  the  undertaker's  shop, 
and  the  hack  stopped  in  front  of  my  house  of  mys 
tery  before  I  knew  where  we  were.  Darkness  had 
come  upon  the  place,  and  the  street-lamps  were 
alight  and  the  gas  was  blazing  in  the  store-windows 
along  the  thoroughfares.  As  I  stepped  out  of  the 
carriage  and  gazed  about  me,  I  recognized  the 
gloomy  doorway  and  its  neighborhood  that  hadf 
greeted  me  on  my  first  night  in  San  Francisco. 

As  I  was  paying  the  fare,  a  stout  figure  stepped 
up  to  me. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Wilton,  it's  you  again." 

I  turned  in  surprise.  It  was  the  policeman  I  had 
met  on  my  first  night  in  San  Francisco. 

"Oh,   Corson,   how  are  you?"   I   said  heartily, 


136  BLINDFOLDED 

recognizing  him  at  last.  I  felt  a  sense  of  relief  in 
the  sight  of  him.  The  place  was  not  one  to  quiet 
my  nerves  after  the  errand  from  which  I  had  just 
come. 

"All's  well,  sor,  but  I've  a  bit  of  paper  for  ye." 
And  after  some  hunting  he  brought  it  forth.  "I  was 
asked  to  hand  this  to  ye." 

I  took  it  in  wonder.  Was  there  something  more 
from  Detective  Coogan?  I  tore  open  the  envelope 
and  read  on  its  inclosure: 

"Kum  tonite  to  the  house.  Shure  if  youre  life  is 
wurth  savein. 

"Muther  Borton." 


CHAPTER  XIV 
MOTHER  BORTON'S  ADVICE 

I  studied  the  note  carefully,  and  then  turned  to 
Policeman  Corson. 

"When  did  she  give  you  this — and  where?" 

"A  lady?"  said  Corson  with  a  grin.  "Ah,  Mr. 
Wilton,  it's  too  sly  she  is  to  give  it  to  me.  'Twas 
a  boy  askin'  for  ye.  'Do  you  know  him?'  says  he. 
'I  do  that/  says  I.  'Where  is  he?'  says  he.  'I  don't 
know,'  says  I.  'Has  'e  a  room?'  says  he.  'He  has/ 
says  I.  'Where  is  it ?' says  he.  'What's  that  to  you?' 
says  I—" 

"Yes,  yes,"  I  interrupted.  "But  where  did  he  get 
the  note?" 

"I  was  just  tellin'  ye,  sor,"  said  the  policeman 
amiably.  "He  shoves  the  note  at  me  ag'in,  an'  says 
he,  'It's  important,'  says  he.  'Go  up  there,'  says  I. 
'Last  room,  top  floor,  right-hand  side.'  Before  I 
comes  to  the  corner  up  here,  he's  after  me  ag'in. 
'He's  gone,'  says  he.  'Like  enough,'  says  I.  'When'll 
he  be  back?'  says  he.  'When  the  cows  come  home, 
sonny,'  says  I.  'Then  there'll  be  the  divil  to  pay/ 
says  he.  I  pricks  up  my  ears  at  this.  'Why?'  says  I. 
'Oh,  he'll  be  killed/  says  he,  'and  I'll  git  the  derndest 

137 


138  BLINDFOLDED 

lickinY  says  he.  'What's  up?'  says  I,  makin'  a 
grab  for  him.  But  he  ducks  an'  blubbers.  'Gimme 
that  letter,'  says  I,  'and  you  just  kite  back  to  the 
folks  that  sent  you,  and  tell  them  what's  the  matter. 
I'll  give  your  note  to  your  man  if  he  comes  while 
I'm  on  the  beat/  says  I.  I  knows  too  much  to  try 
to  git  anything  more  out  of  him.  I  says  to  meself 
that  Mr.  Wilton  ain't  in  the  safest  place  in  the  world, 
and  this  kid's  folks  maybe  means  him  well,  and 
might  know  some  other  place  to  look  for  him.  The 
kid  jaws  a  bit,  an'  then  does  as  I  tells  him,  an'  cuts 
away.  That's  half  an  hour  ago,  an'  here  you  are, 
an'  here's  your  letter." 

I  hesitated  for  a  little  before  saying  anything.  It 
was  with  quick  suspicion  that  I  wondered  why 
Mother  Borton  had  secured  again  that  gloomy  and 
deserted  house  for  the  interview  she  was  planning. 
That  mystery  of  the  night,  with  its  memories  of 
the  fight  in  the  bar-room,  the  escape  up  the  stair, 
the  fearsome  moments  I  had  spent  locked  in  the  va 
cant  place,  came  on  me  with  nerve-shaking  force. 
It  was  more  likely  to  be  a  trap  than  a  meeting 
meant  for  my  advantage.  There  was,  indeed,  no 
assurance  that  the  note  was  written  by  Mother 
Borton  herself.  It  might  well  be  the  product  of  the 
gentlemen  who  had  been  lending  such  variety  to  an 
otherwise  uninteresting  existence. 

All  these  considerations  flashed  through  my  mind 
in  the  seconds  of  hesitation  that  passed  before  my 
reply  to  Policeman  Corson's  accourt. 


MOTHER   BORTON'S   ADVICE     139 

"That  was  very  kind  of  you.  You  didn't  know 
what  was  in  the  letter  then?" 

"No,  sor,"  replied  Corson  with  a  touch  of 
wounded  pride.  "It's  not  me  as  would  open  another 
man's  letter,  unless  in  the  way  of  me  duty." 

"Do  you  know  Mother  Borton?"  I  continued. 

"Know  her?  know  her?"  returned  Corson  in  a 
tone  scornful  of  doubt  on  such  a  point.  "Do  I  know 
the  slickest  crook  in  San  Francisco?  Ah,  it's  many 
a  story  I  could  tell  you,  Mr.  Wilton,  of  the  way 
that  ould  she-divil  has  slipped  through  our  fingers 
when  we  thought  our  hands  were  on  her  throat. 
And  it's  many  of  her  brood  we  have  put  safe  in 
San  Quentin." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  said  I  dryly.  "But  the 
woman  has  done  me  a  service — saved  my  life,  I  may 
say — and  I'm  willing  to  forget  the  bad  in  her." 

"That's  not  for  me  to  say,  sor;  but  there's  quare 
things  happens,  no  doubt." 

"This  note,"  I  continued,  "is  written  over  her 
name.  I  don't  know  whether  it  came  from  her,  or 
not;  but  if  she  sent  it  I  must  see  her.  It  may  be 
a  case  of  life  or  death  for  me." 

"An'  if  it  didn't  come  from  her?"  asked  the  po 
liceman  shrewdly. 

"Then,"  said  I  grimly,  "it's  likely  to  be  a  case  of 
death  if  I  venture  alone." 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Wilton,"  said  Corson 
after  a  pause.  "If  you'll  wait  a  bit,  I'll  go  with  you 
— that  is,  if  there  isn't  somebody  else  you'd  like  bet- 


140  BLINDFOLDED 

ter  to  have  by  your  side  to-night.  You  don't  look  to 
have  any  of  your  friends  about." 

"Just  the  thing,"  I  said  heartily.  "There's  no  one 
I'd  rather  have.  We'll  go  down  as  soon  as  we  can 
get  a  bite  to  eat." 

"I'll  have  to  wait  a  bit,  sor,  till  my  relief  comes. 
He'll  be  along  soon.  As  for  getting  a  bite,  you 
can't  do  better  than  wait  till  you  get  to  Mother 
Borton's.  It's  a  rough  place,  but  it's  got  a  name  for 
good  cooking." 

I  was  bewildered. 

"I  guess  there's  not  much  to  be  got  in  the  way  of 
eating  in  the  house.  There  was  nothing  left  in  it 
yesterday  morning  but  the  rats."  I  spoke  with  con 
siderable  emphasis. 

"That's  square,  now,"  he  said,  looking  to  see  if 
there  was  a  jest  behind  the  words.  "But  'twas  all 
there  when  McPherson  and  I  put  a  club  to  a  drunk 
as  was  raising  the  Ould  Nick  in  the  place  and 
smashing  the  bottles,  not  six  hours  ago.  When  we 
took  him  away  in  the  ixpriss  wagon  the  ould  woman 
was  rowling  out  those  long  black  curses  in  a  way 
that  would  warm  the  heart  of  the  foul  fiend  him 
self." 

There  was  some  fresh  mystery  about  this.  I  held 
my  tongue  with  the  reflection  that  I  had  better  let 
it  straighten  itself  out  than  risk  a  stumble  by  asking 
about  things  I  ought  to  know. 

Corson's  relief  soon  appeared.  "It's  a  nasty 
night,"  he  said,  buttoning  up  his  overcoat  closely, 


MOTHER    BORTON'S   ADVICE    141 

as  Corson  gave  him  a  brief  report  of  the  situation 
on  the  beat. 

"It's  good  for  them  as  likes  it  dark," said  Corson. 

"It's  just  such  a  night  as  we  had  when  Donaldson 
was  murdered.  Do  you  mind  it  ?" 

"Do  I  mind  it?  Am  I  likely  to  forgit  it?  Well, 
a  pleasant  time  to  you,  me  boy.  Come  along,  sor. 
We'd  better  be  moving.  You  won't  mind  stepping 
up  to  the  hall  with  me,  will  ye,  while  I  report  ?" 

"Certainly  not,"  I  said  with  a  shiver,  half  at  the 
grim  suggestion  of  murder  and  half  at  the  chill  of 
the  fog  and  the  cutting  wind  that  blew  the  cold  vapor 
through  to  the  skin. 

"You've  no  overcoat,"  said  Corson.  "We'll  stop 
and  get  one.  I'll  have  mine  from  the  station." 

The  silence  of  the  house  of  mystery  was  no  less 
threatening  now  than  on  the  night  when  Henry  Wil 
ton  was  walking  through  the  halls  on  the  way  to  his 
death.  But  the  stout-hearted  policeman  by  my  side 
gave  me  confidence,  and  no  sign  showed  the  pres 
ence  of  an  enemy  as  I  secured  Henry's  heavy  over 
coat  and  the  large  revolver  he  had  given  me,  and  we 
took  our  way  down  the  stairs. 

A  short  visit  to  the  grimy,  foul-smelling  base 
ment  of  the  City  Hall,  where  a  few  policemen 
looked  at  me  wonderingly,  a  brisk  walk  with  the 
cutting  wind  at  our  backs  and  the  fog  currents 
hurrying  and  whirling  in  eddies  toward  the  bay, 
and  I  felt  rather  than  saw  that  we  were  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  scene  of  my  adventures  of  a 


142  BLINDFOLDED 

night  that  had  come  so  near  costing  me  my  life.  I 
could  not  be  certain  of  my  bearings,  but  I  trusted 
to  the  unconscious  guidance  of  Corson,  with  a  con 
fused  idea  that  we  were  bearing  away  from  the  place. 
Then  with  relief  combined  with  bewilderment,  I 
saw  the  lantern  sign  give  forth  its  promise  of  the 
varied  entertainment  that  could  be  had  at  Borton's. 

"Here  we  are,"  said  Corson. 

We  pushed  open  the  door  and  entered.  The  place 
had  the  same  appearance  as  the  one  to  which  I  had 
been  taken  by  Dicky  Nahl. 

"A  fine  night,  Mother  Borton,"  said  Corson 
cheerily,  as  he  was  the  first  to  enter,  and  then  added 
under  his  breath,  " — for  the  divil's  business." 

Mother  Borton  stared  at  him  with  a  black  look 
and  muttered  a  curse. 

"Good  evening,"  I  hastened  to  say.  "I  took  the 
liberty  to  bring  a  friend ;  he  doesn't  come  as  an  offi 
cer  to-night." 

The  effect  on  the  hag's  features  was  marvelous. 
The  black  scowl  lightened,  the  tight-drawn  lips  re 
laxed,  and  there  was  a  sign  of  pleasure  in  the  bright 
eyes  that  had  flashed  hatred  at  the  policeman. 

"Ah,  it's  you,  is  it?"  she  said  sharply,  but  with  a 
tone  of  kindness  in  her  greeting.  "I  didn't  see  ye. 
Now  sit  down  and  find  a  table,  and  I'll  be  with  ye 
after  a  bit." 

"We  want  a  dinner,  and  a  good  one.  I'm  half- 
starved." 

"Are  ye,  honey?"  said  the  woman  with  delight. 


MOTHER   BORTON'S   ADVICE     143 

"Then  it's  the  best  dinner  in  town  ye  shall  have. 
Here,  Jim!  Put  these  gentlemen  over  there  at  the 
corner  table." 

And  if  the  cooking  was  not  what  we  could  have 
had  at  the  Maison  Doree  and  the  service  was  a  little 
off  color,  neither  of  us  was  disposed  to  be  critical. 

"It's  not  the  aristocracy  of  stoile  ye  get  here," 
said  Corson,  lighting  his  pipe  after  the  coffee,  "but 
it's  prime  eating." 

I  nodded  in  lazy  contentment,  and  then  started  up 
in  remembrance  of  the  occasion  of  our  being  in  this 
place  as  the  shadow  of  Mother  Borton  fell  across  the 
table.  Her  keen  eyes  fixed  on  me  and  her  sharp 
beak  nodding  toward  me  gave  her  the  uncanny 
aspect  of  a  bird  of  prey,  and  I  felt  a  sinking  of 
courage  as  I  met  her  glance. 

"If  you  will  go  upstairs,"  she  said  sourly.  "You 
know  the  way.  I  guess  your  friend  can  spare  you." 

"Is  there  anything  that  can't  be  told  before  him  ?" 
I  asked. 

The  features  of  the  old  woman  hardened. 

"You'll  be  safer  in  my  care  than  in  his/'  she  said, 
with  warning  in  her  tone. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know  I  am  safe  here,  but  how  is  it 
with  my  friend  if  I  leave  him  here?  We  came  to 
gether  and  we'll  go  together." 

The  crone  nodded  with  a  laugh  that  ended  in  a 
snarl. 

"If  the  gang  knew  he  was  here  there  would  be 
more  fun  than  you  saw  the  other  night." 


144  BLINDFOLDED 

"Don't  worry  about  me,  Mr.  Wilton,"  said  Cor- 
son  with  a  grin.  "I've  stood  her  crowd  off  before, 
and  I  can  do  it  again  if  the  need  comes.  But  I'd 
rather  smoke  a  poipe  in  peace." 

"You  can  smoke  in  peace,  but  it's  not  yourself 
you  can  thank  for  it/'  said  Mother  Borton  sharply. 
"There'll  be  no  trouble  here  to-night.  Come  along." 
And  the  old  woman  started  for  the  door. 

"Are  you  sure  you're  all  right?"  asked  Corson  in 
a  low  voice.  "There's  men  gone  up  those  stairs  that 
came  down  with  a  sheet  over  them." 

"It's  all  right — that  is,  unless  there's  any  danger 
to  you  in  leaving  you  here." 

"No.  Go  ahead.  I'll  wait  for  ye.  I'd  as  lief  sit 
here  as  anywheres." 

I  hastened  after  Mother  Borton,  who  was  glow 
ering  at  me  from  the  doorway,  and  followed  her 
footsteps  in  silence  to  the  floor  above. 

There  was  a  dim  light  and  a  foul  smell  in  the 
upper  hall,  both  of  which  came  from  a  lamp  that 
burned  with  a  low  flame  on  a  bracket  by  the  forward 
stair.  There  were  perhaps  a  dozen  doors  to  be  seen, 
all  closed,  but  all  giving  the  discomforting  sugges 
tion  that  they  had  eyes  to  mark  my  coming. 

Mother  Borton  walked  the  passage  cautiously  and 
in  silence,  and  I  followed  her  example  until  she 
pushed  open  a  door  and  was  swallowed  up  in  the 
blackness.  Then  I  paused  on  the  threshold  while 
she  lighted  a  candle;  and  as  I  entered,  she  swiftly 
closed  and  locked  the  door  behind  me. 


MOTHER    BORTON'S    ADVICE     145 

"Sit  down/'  she  said  in  a  harsh  voice,  motioning 
me  to  a  chair  by  the  stand  that  held  the  candle.  Then 
this  strange  creature  seated  herself  in  front  of  me, 
and  looked  steadily  and  sternly  in  my  face  for  a  full 
minute.  The  gaze  of  the  piercing,  deep-sunken  eyes 
of  the  old  hag,  the  evil  lines  that  marked  the  lean, 
sharp  features,  gaining  a  still  more  sinister  meaning 
from  the  wavering,  flickering  light  thrown  upon  her 
face  by  the  candle,  gave  me  a  feeling  of  anything 
but  ease  in  my  position. 

"What  have  you  done  that  I  should  help  you?" 
she  broke  forth  in  a  harsh  voice,  her  eyes  still  fixed 
on  my  face. 

"I  really  couldn't  say/'  I  replied  politely.  "You 
have  done  me  one  or  two  services  already.  That's 
the  best  reason  I  know  why  you  should  do  me  an 
other." 

The  hard  lines  on  the  face  before  me  relaxed  at 
the  sound  of  my  voice,  and  the  old  woman  nodded 
approvingly. 

"Ay,  reason  enough,  I  guess.  Them  as  wants 
better  can  find  it  themselves.  But  why  did  you  sneak 
out  of  the  house  the  other  night  like  a  cop  in  plain 
clothes?  Didn't  I  go  bail  you  were  safe?  Do  you 
want  any  better  word  than  mine?"  she  had  begun 
almost  softly,  but  the  voice  grew  higher  and  harsher 
as  she  went  on. 

"Why,"  I  said,  bewildered  again,  "the  house 
sneaked  away  from  me — or,  at  least  you  left  me 
alone  in  it." 


146  BLINDFOLDED 

"How  was  that?"  she  asked  grimly.  And  I  de 
scribed  graphically  my  experience  in  the  deserted 
building. 

As  I  proceeded  with  my  tale  an  amused  look  re 
placed  the  harsh  lines  of  suspicion  on  Mother  Bor- 
ton's  face. 

"Oh,  my  lud !"  she  cried  with  a  chuckle.  "Oh,  my 
lud !  how  very  green  you  are,  my  boy.  Oh  ho !  oh 
ho!"  And  then  she  laughed  an  inward,  self-con 
suming  laugh  that  called  up  anything  but  the  feeling 
of  sympathetic  mirth. 

"I'm  glad  it  amuses  you,"  I  said  with  injured 
dignity. 

"Oh,  my  liver!  Don't  you  see  it  yet?  Don't  you 
see  that  you  climbed  into  the  next  house  back,  and 
went  through  on  to  the  other  street?"  And  she  re 
lapsed  into  her  state  of  silent  merriment. 

I  felt  foolish  enough  as  the  truth  flashed  over  me. 
I  had  lost  my  sense  of  direction  in  the  strange  house, 
and  had  been  deceived  by  the  resemblance  of  the 
ground  plan  of  the  two  buildings. 

"But  what  about  the  plot?"  I  asked.  "I  got  your 
note.  It's  very  interesting.  What  about  it  ?" 

"What  plot?" 

"Why,  I  don't  know.  The  one  you  wrote  me 
about." 

Mother  Borton  bent  forward  and  searched  my 
face  with  her  keen  glance. 

"Oh,"  she  said  at  last,  "the  one  I  wrote  you  about. 
I'd  forgotten  it." 


MOT  HERBORTON'S    ADVICE     147 

This  was  disheartening.  How  could  I  depend  on 
one  whose  memory  was  thus  capricious? 

"Yes,"  said  I  gloomily;  "I  supposed  you  might 
know  something  about  it." 

"Show  me  the  note,"  she  said  sharply. 

I  fumbled  through  my  pockets  until  I  found  it. 
Mother  Borton  clutched  it,  held  it  up  to  the  candle, 
and  studied  it  for  two  or  three  minutes. 

"Where  did  you  get  it?" 

I  described  the  circumstances  in  which  it  had  come 
into  my  possession,  and  repeated  the  essentials  of 
Corson's  story.  Mother  Borton's  sharp,  evil  face 
was  impassive  during  my  recital.  When  it  was  done 
she  muttered : 

"Gimme  a  fool  for  luck."  Then  she  appeared  to 
consider  for  a  minute  or  more. 

"Well?"  said  I  inquiringly. 

"Well,  honey,  you're  having  a  run  of  the  cards," 
she  said  at  last.  "Between  having  the  message 
trusted  to  a  fool  boy,  and  having  a  cop  for  your 
friend,  an'  maybe  gitting  this  note  before  you're  ex 
pected  to,  you're  setting  here  genteel-like  having 
agreeable  conversation  along  with  me,  instead  of  be 
ing  in  company  you  mightn't  like  so  well — or  maybe 
floating  out  toward  Fort  Point." 

"So  you  didn't  write  it?"  I  said  coolly.  "I  had  an 
idea  of  the  kind.  That's  why  my  friend  Corson  is 
smoking  his  pipe  down  stairs." 

Mother  Borton  gave  me  a  pleased  look  and  nod 
ded.  I  hoped  I  had  made  her  regret  the  cruel  insin- 


148  BLINDFOLDED 

uation  in  her  application  of  the  proverb  to  me  as  the 
favorite  of  fortune. 

"I  see,"  I  said.  "I  was  to  be  waylaid  on  the  road 
here  and  killed." 

"Carried  off,  more  likely.  I  don't  say  as  it 
wouldn't  end  in  killin'  ye.  But,  you  see,  you'd  be 
'of  mighty  small  use  in  tellin'  tales  if  you  was  dead; 
but  you  might  be  got  to  talk  if  they  had  ye  in  a 
quiet  place." 

"Good  reasoning.    But  Henry  Wilton  was  killed." 

"Yes,"  admitted  Mother  Borton;  "they  thought 
he  carried  papers,  and  maybe  they  ain't  got  over  the 
idea  yit.  It's  jest  as  well  you're  here  instid  of  hav 
ing  a  little  passear  with  Tom  Terrill  and  Darby 
Meeker  and  their  pals." 

"Well,"  said  I,  as  cheerfully  as  I  could  under  the 
depressing  circumstances,  "if  they  want  to  kill  me, 
I  don't  see  how  I  can  keep  them  from  getting  a 
chance  sooner  or  later." 

Mother  Borton  looked  anxious  at  this,  and  shook 
her  head. 

"You  must  call  on  your  men,"  she  said  decidedly. 
"You  must  have  guards." 

"By  the  way,"  I  said,  "that  reminds  me.  The 
men  haven't  been  paid,  and  they're  looking  to  me 
for  money." 

"Who's  looking  to  you  for  money?" 

"Dicky  Nahl — and  the  others,  I  suppose." 

"Dicky  Nahl?" 

"Why,  yes.    He  asked  me  for  it." 


MOTHER    BORTON'S    ADVICE     149 

"And  you  gave  it  to  him  ?"  she  asked  sharply. 

"No-o — that  is,  I  gave  him  ten  dollars,  and  told 
him  he'd  have  to  wait  for  the  rest.  I  haven't  got 
the  money  from  the  one  that's  doing  the  hiring  yet, 
so  I  couldn't  pay  him." 

Mother  Borton  gave  an  evil  grin,  and  absorbed 
another  inward  laugh. 

"I  reckon  the  money'll  come  all  right,"  said 
Mother  Borton,  recovering  from  her  mirth. 
"There's  one  more  anxious  than  you  to  have  'em 
paid,  and  if  you  ain't  found  out  you'll  have  it  right 
away.  Now  for  guards,  take  Trent — no,  he's  hurt. 
Take  Brown  and  Porter  and  Barkhouse  and  Fitz- 
hugh.  They're  wide-awake,  and  don't  talk  much. 
Take  'em  two  and  two,  and  never  go  without  'em, 
night  or  day.  You  stop  here  to-night,  and  I'll  git 
'em  for  you  to-morrow." 

I  declined  the  proffered  hospitality  with  thanks, 
and  as  a  compromise  agreed  to  call  for  my  body 
guard  in  the  early  morning.  Rejoining  Corson,  I 
explained  Mother  Borton's  theory  of  the  plot  that 
had  brought  me  thither. 

"She's  like  to  be  right,"  said  the  policeman.  "She 
knows  the  gang.  Now,  if  you'll  take  my  advice, 
you'll  let  the  rats  have  your  room  for  this  night, 
and  come  along  up  to  some  foine  hotel." 

The  advice  appeared  good,  and  fifteen  minutes 
later  Corson  was  drinking  my  health  at  the  Lick 
House  bar,  and  calling  on  the  powers  of  light  and 
darkness  to  watch  over  my  safety  as  I  slept. 


150  BLINDFOLDED 

Whether  due  to  his  prayers  or  not,  my  sleep  was 
undisturbed,  even  by  dreams  of  Doddridge  Knapp 
and  his  charming  but  scornful  daughter;  and  with 
the  full  tide  of  life  and  business  flowing  through 
the  streets  in  the  morning  hours  I  found  myself  once 
more  in  Mother  Borton's  dingy  eating-room,  order 
ing  a  breakfast. 

Mother  Borton  ignored  my  entrance,  and,  perched 
on  a  high  stool  behind  the  bar  and  cash-drawer,  re 
minded  me  of  the  vulture  guarding  its  prey.  But 
ac  last  she  fluttered  over  to  my  table  and  took  a  seat 
opposite. 

"Your  men  are  here,"  she  said  shortly.  And 
then,  as  I  expressed  my  thanks,  she  warmed  up  and 
gave  me  a  description  by  which  I  should  know  each 
and  led  me  to  the  room  where,  as  she  said,  they 
were  "corralled." 

"By  the  way,"  I  said,  halting  outside  the  door, 
"they'll  want  some  money,  I  suppose.  Do  you  know 
how  much  ?" 

"They're  paid/'  she  said,  and  pushed  open  the 
door  before  I  could  express  surprise  or  ask  further 
questions.  I  surmised  that  she  had  paid  them  her 
self  to  save  me  from  annoyance  or  possible  danger, 
and  my  gratitude  to  this  strange  creature  rose  still 
higher. 

The  four  men  within  the  room  saluted  me 
gravely  and  with  Mother  Borton's  directions  in 
mind  I  had  no  hesitation  in  calling  each  by  his  name. 
I  was  pleased  to  see  that  they  were  robust,  vigorous 


**!  OTHER   BORTON'S    ADVICE     151 

fellows,  and  soon  made  my  dispositions.  Brown  and 
Barkhouse  were  to  attend  me  during  daylight,  and 
Fitzhugh  and  Porter  were  to  guard  together  at 
night.  And,  so  much  settled,  I  hastened  to  the 
office. 

No  sign  of  Doddridge  Knapp  disturbed  the  morn 
ing,  and  at  the  noon  hour  I  returned  to  the  room  in 
the  house  of  mystery  that  was  still  my  only  fixed 
abode. 

All  was  apparently  as  I  had  left  it,  except  that  a 
letter  lay  on  the  table. 

"I  must  get  a  new  lock,"  was  my  comment,  as  I 
broke  the  seal.  "This  place  is  getting  too  public  when 
every  messenger  has  a  key."  I  was  certain  that  I 
had  locked  the  door  when  Corson  and  I  had  come 
out  on  the  evening  before. 

The  letter  was  from  my  unknown  employer,  and 
read: 

"Richmond  has  paid  the  men.  Be  ready  for  a 
move  at  any  moment.  Leave  your  address  if  you 
sleep  elsewhere." 

And  now  came  three  or  four  days  of  rest  and 
quiet  after  the  merry  life  I  had  been  leading  since 
my  arrival  in  San  Francisco. 

No  word  did  I  get  from  Doddridge  Knapp.  I  kept 
close  watch  of  the  stock  market,  and  gossiped  with 
speculators  and  brokers,  for  I  wished  to  know  at 
once  if  he  had  employed  another  agent.  My  work 


152  BLINDFOLDED 

would  lie  in  another  direction  if  such  should  prove 
to  be  the  case.  But  there  was  no  movement  in 
Omega,  and  I  could  hear  no  hint  of  another  deal 
that  might  show  a  trace  of  his  dexterous  hand. 
"Quiet  trading/'  was  the  report  from  all  quarters. 

"Fact  is,"  said  Wallbridge  on  the  fourth  day,  try 
ing  to  look  doleful,  "I  haven't  made  enough  this 
week  to  pay  for  the  gas — and  I  don't  burn  any." 

In  the  interval  I  improved  my  time  by  getting 
better  acquainted  with  the  city.  Emboldened  by  my 
body-guard,  I  slept  for  two  nights  in  Henry's  room, 
and  with  one  to  watch  outside  the  door,  one  lying 
on  a  mattress  just  inside,  and  a  new  lock  and  bolt,  I 
was  free  from  disturbance. 

Just  as  I  had  formed  a  wild  idea  of  looking  up 
Doddridge  Knapp  in  his  home,  I  came  to  the  office 
in  the  morning  to  find  the  door  into  Room  16  wide 
open  and  the  farther  door  ajar. 

"Come  in,  Wilton,"  said  the  voice  of  the  King  of 
the  Street ;  and  I  entered  his  room  to  find  him  busied 
over  his  papers,  as  though  nothing  had  occurred 
since  I  had  last  met  him. 

"The  market  has  had  something  of  a  vacation,"  I 
ventured,  as  he  failed  to  speak. 

"I  have  been  out  of  town,"  he  said  shortly.  "What 
have  you  done?" 

"Nothing." 

He  gave  a  grunt  of  assent. 

"You  didn't  expect  me  to  be  buying  up  the  market, 
did  you?" 


MOTHER   BORTON'S   ADVICE     155 

The  yellow-gray  mustache  went  up,  and  the  wolf- 
fangs  gleamed  from  beneath. 

"I  reckon  it  wouldn't  have  been  a  very  profitable 
speculation,"  he  replied. 

Then  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  looked 
meditatively  at  the  wall. 

"It  was  for  one  fellow,  though,"  he  continued, 
mellowing  as  he  mused  in  his  recollections.  "It  was 
at  the  time  of  the  Honest  Injun  deal — I  guess  you 
don't  remember  that.  It  must  have  been  ten  years 
ago.  Well,  I  had  a  fellow  named — why,  what  was 
his  name? — oh,  Riggs,  or  Rix,  I  forget  which, — and 
he  was  handling  about  a  hundred  thousand  dollars 
for  me.  We  had  Honest  Injun  run  up  from  one  dol 
lar  till  it  was  over  twenty  dollars  a  share.  I  had  to 
go  up  to  Nevada  City,  and  left  ten  thousand  shares 
with  him  with  orders  to  sell  at  twenty-five." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  as  the  King  of  the  Street  paused 
and  seemed  inclined  to  drop  the  story.  "At  twenty- 
five." 

"Well,"  he  continued  at  this  encouragement, 
"when  I  came  back,  Honest  Injun  was  dowrn  to  ten 
cents,  or  somewhere  around  there,  which  was  just 
about  as  I  expected.  Riggs  comes  up  to  me  as  proud 
as  a  spotted  pup,  and  tells  me  that  he'd  sold  at  thirty 
dollars,  and  cleared  fifty  thousand  more  than  I'd  ex 
pected." 

"A  pretty  good  deal,"  I  suggested. 

"It  happened  that  way,  but  it  wouldn't  happen  so 
once  in  ten  years.  The  stock  had  gone  up  to  thirty- 


154  BLINDFOLDED 

one  or  thirty-two  before  it  broke,  and  he  had  sold 
just  in  time." 

"Did  he  get  a  reward?"  I  asked,  as  my  employer 
appeared  to  wait  for  an  observation  from  me. 

"He  did,"  said  the  Wolf  with  a  growl.  "I  dis 
charged  him  on  the  spot.  And  hanged  if  I  didn't 
tell  him  that  the  fifty  thousand  was  his — and  let  him 
have  it,  too.  Oh,  he  was  playing  in  great  luck !  That 
combination  wouldn't  come  twice  in  a  thousand 
years.  The  next  man  who  tried  it  went  to  jail,"  he 
added  with  a  snap  of  the  jaws. 

"Quite  correct,"  I  said.  "Orders  must  be  obeyed." 

"Just  remember  that,"  he  said  significantly. 
"Have  you  heard  anything  more  of  Decker?" 

"I've  heard  enough  to  satisfy  me  that  he's  the 
man  who  got  the  Omega  stock." 

"What  other  deal  is  he  in?"  asked  the  King  of  the 
Street. 

"I  don't  know." 

The  King  of  the  Street  smiled  indulgently. 

"Well,  you've  got  something  to  learn  yet.  I'll 
give  you  till  next  week  to  find  the  answer  to  that 
question." 

I  was  convinced  from  his  air  that  he  had  informa 
tion  on  both  these  points  himself,  and  was  merely 
trying  my  knowledge. 

"I'll  not  be  back  before  next  Wednesday,"  he  con 
cluded. 

"Going  away  again?"  I  asked  in  surprise. 

"I'm  off  to  Virginia  City,"  he  replied  after  con- 


MOTHER   BORTON'S    ADVICE     155 

sidering  for  a  little.  "I'm  not  sure  about  Omega, 
after  all — and  there's  another  one  I  want  to  look 
into.  You  needn't  mention  my  going.  When  I  come 
back  we'll  have  a  campaign  that  will  raise  the  roof 
of  every  Board  in  town.  No  orders  till  then  unless  I 
telegraph  you.  That's  all." 

The  King  of  the  Street  seemed  straightforward 
enough  in  his  statement  ot  plans,  and  it  did  not  oc 
cur  to  me  to  distrust  him  while  I  was  in  his  pres 
ence.  Yet,  once  more  in  my  office,  with  the  locked 
door  between,  I  began  to  doubt,  and  tried  to  find 
some  hidden  meaning  in  each  word  and  look. 
What  plan  was  he  revolving  in  that  fertile  brain?  I 
could  not  guess.  The  mystery  of  the  great  speculator 
was  beyond  my  power  to  fathom.  And  we  worked, 
each  in  ignorance  of  the  other's  purposes,  and  went 
the  appointed  road. 


CHAPTER  XV 

I   AM    IN   THE   TOILS 

"Welcome  once  more,  Mr.  Wilton/*  said  Mrs. 
Doddridge  Knapp,  holding  out  her  hand.  "Were 
you  going  to  neglect  us  again  ?" 

"Not  at  all,  madam,"  said  I  with  unblushing  men 
dacity.  "I  am  always  at  your  command." 

Mrs.  Knapp  bowed  with  regal  condescension,  and 
replied  with  such  intimations  of  good  will  that  I  was 
glad  I  had  come.  I  had  vowed  I  would  never  set 
foot  again  in  the  place.  The  hot  blood  of  shame  had 
burned  my  cheeks  whenever  I  recalled  my  dismissal 
from  the  lips  of  the  daughter  of  the  house.  But  I 
had  received  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Bowser,  setting 
forth  that  I  was  wanted  at  the  house  of  Doddridge 
Knapp,  and  her  prolixity  was  such  that  I  was  unable 
to  determine  whether  she,  or  Mrs.  Knapp,  or  Luella, 
wished  to  see  me.  But  as  all  three  appeared  to  be 
concerned  in  it  I  pocketed  pride  and  resentment,  and 
made  my  bow  with  some  nervous  quavers  at  the  Pine 
Street  palace. 

As  I  was  speaking  I  cast  my  eyes  furtively  about 
the  room.  Mrs.  Knapp  interpreted  my  glance. 

"She  will  be  in  presently."  There  was  to  my  ear 
'56 


I   AM    IN    THE   TOILS  157 

a  trace  of  mocking  laughter  in  her  voice  as  she  spoke, 
but  her  face  betokened  only  a  courteous  interest. 

"Thanks — I  hope  so,"  I  said  in  a  little  confusion. 
I  wished  I  knew  whether  she  meant  Luella  or  Mrs. 
Bowser. 

"You  got  the  note?"  she  asked. 

"It  was  a  great  pleasure." 

"Mrs.  Bowser  wished  so  much  to  see  you  again. 
She  has  been  singing  your  praises — you  were  such 
an  agreeable  young  man." 

I  cursed  Mrs.  Bowser  in  my  heart. 

"I  am  most  flattered,"  I  said  politely. 

There  was  a  mischievous  sparkle  in  Mrs.  Knapp's 
eye,  but  her  face  was  serenely  gracious. 

"I  believe  there  was  some  arrangement  between 
you  about  a  trip  to  see  the  sights  of  Chinatown. 
Mrs.  Bowser  was  quite  worried  for  fear  you  had 
forgotten  it,  so  I  gave  her  your  address  and  told  her 
to  write  you  a  note." 

I  had  not  been  conscious  of  expecting  anything 
from  my  visit,  but  at  this  bit  of  information  I  found 
that  I  had  been  building  air-castles  which  had  been 
invisible  till  they  came  tumbling  about  my  ears.  I 
could  not  look  for  Miss  Knapp's  company  on  such  an 
expedition. 

"Oh,"  said  I,  with  an  attempt  to  conceal  my  dis 
appointment,  "the  matter  had  slipped  my  mind.  I 
shall  be  most  happy  to  attend  Mrs.  Bowser,  or  to  see 
that  she  has  a  proper  escort." 

We  had  been  walking  about  the  room  during  this 


158  BLINDFOLDED 

conversation,  and  at  this  point  had  come  to  an  al 
cove  where  Mrs.  Knapp  motioned  me  to  a  seat. 

"I  may  not  get  a  chance  to  talk  with  you  alone 
again  this  evening,"  she  continued,  dropping  her 
half-bantering  tone,  "and  you  come  so  little  now. 
What  are  you  doing  ?" 

"Keeping  out  of  mischief." 

"Yes,  but  how?"  she  persisted.  "You  used  to  tell 
me  everything.  Now  you  tell  me  nothing." 

"Mr.  Knapp's  work — "  I  began. 

"Oh,  of  course  I  don't  expect  you  to  tell  me  about 
that.  I  know  Mr.  Knapp,  and  you're  as  close- 
mouthed  as  he,  even  when  he's  away." 

"I  should  tell  you  anything  of  my  own,  but,  of 
course,  another's — " 

"I  understand."  Mrs.  Knapp,  sitting  with  hands 
clasped  in  her  lap,  gave  me  a  quick  look.  "But  there 
was  something  else.  You  were  telling  me  about  your 
adventures,  you  remember.  You  told  me  two  or 
three  weeks  ago  about  the  way  you  tricked  Darby 
Meeker  and  sent  him  to  Sierra  City."  And  she 
smiled  at  the  recollection  of  Darby  Meeker's  dis 
comfiture. 

"Oh,  yes,"  I  said,  with  a  laugh  that  sounded  dis 
tressingly  hollow  to  my  ears.  "That  was  a  capital 
joke  on  Meeker." 

Here  was  a  fine  pack  of  predicaments  loosed  on 
my  trail.  It  was  with  an  effort  that  I  kept  my  coun 
tenance,  and  the  cold  sweat  started  on  my  forehead. 
How  much  had  Henry  told  of  his  business  ?  Had  he 


I   AM    IN   THE   TOILS  159 

touched  on  it  lightly,  humorously,  or  had  he  given 
a  full  account  of  his  adventures  to  the  wife  of  the 
man  with  whose  secrets  he  was  concerned,  and  whose 
evil  plans  had  brought  him  to  his  death?  The  ques 
tions  flashed  through  my  mind  in  the  instant  that 
followed  Mrs.  Knapp's  speech. 

"How  did  it  turn  out?"  asked  Mrs.  Knapp  with 
lively  interest.  "Did  he  get  back?" 

I  decided  promptly  on  a  judicious  amount  of  the 
truth. 

"Yes,  he  got  back,  boiling  with  wrath,  and  loaded 
to  the  guards  with  threats — that  is,  I  heard  so  from 
my  men.  I  didn't  see  him  myself,  or  you  might  have 
found  the  rest  of  it  in  the  newspaper." 

"What  did  he  do?  Tell  me  about  it."  Mrs  Knapp 
gave  every  evidence  of  absorbed  interest. 

"Well,  he  laid  a  trap  for  me  at  Borton's,  put  Ter- 
rill  in  as  advance  guard,  and  raised  blue  murder 
about  the  place."  And  then  I  went  on  to  give  a  care 
fully  amended  account  of  my  first  night's  row  at 
Borton's,  and  with  an  occasional  question,  Mrs. 
Knapp  had  soon  extorted  from  me  a  fairly  full  ac 
count  of  my  doings. 

"It  is  dreadful  for  you  to  expose  yourself  to  such 
dangers." 

I  was  privately  of  her  opinion. 

"Oh,  that's  nothing,"  said  I  airily.  "A  man  may 
be  killed  any  day  by  a  brick  falling  from  a  building, 
or  by  slipping  on  an  orange  peel  on  the  crossing." 

"But  it  is  dreadful  to  court  death  so.    Yet,"  she 


160  BLINDFOLDED 

mused,  "if  I  were  a  man  I  could  envy  you  your  work. 
There  is  romance  and  life  in  it,  as  well  as  danger. 
You  are  doing  in  the  nineteenth  century  and  in  the 
midst  of  civilization  what  your  forefathers  may  have 
done  in  the  days  of  chivalry." 

"It  is  a  fine  life,"  I  said  dryly.  "But  it  has  its 
drawbacks." 

"But  while  you  live  no  one  can  harm  the  child," 
she  said.  There  was  inquiry  in  her  tone,  I  thought. 

I  suppressed  a  start  of  surprise.  I  had  avoided 
mention  of  the  boy.  Henry  had  trusted  Mrs.  Knapp 
further  than  I  had  dreamed. 

"He  shall  never  be  given  up  by  me,"  I  replied 
with  conviction. 

"That  is  spoken  like  a  true,  brave  man,"  said  Mrs. 
Knapp  with  an  admiring  look. 
"Thank  you,"  I  said  modestly. 
"Another  life  than  yours  depends  on  your  skill 
and  courage.    That  must  give  you  strength,"  she 
said  softly. 

"It  does  indeed,"  I  replied.  I  was  thinking  of 
Doddridge  Knapp's  life. 

"But  here  come  Luella  and  Mrs.  Bowser,"  said 
Mrs.  Knapp.  "I  see  I  shall  lose  your  company  " 

My  heart  gave  a  great  bound,  and  I  turned  to  see 
the  queenly  grace  of  Luella  Knapp  as  she  entered 
the  room  in  the  train  of  Mrs.  Bowser. 

Vows  of  justice  and  vengeance,  visions  of  danger 
and  death,  faded  away  as  I  looked  once  more  on  the 
mobile,  expressive  face  of  the  girl  who  had  claimed 


I   AM    IN   THE   TOILS  161 

so  great  a  share  of  my  waking  thoughts  and  filled 
my  dreams  from  the  first  moment  her  spirit  had 
flashed  on  mine.  I  rose  and  my  eyes  followed  her 
eagerly  as  I  stood  by  the  curtain  of  the  alcove,  ob 
livious  of  all  else  in  the  room. 

Was  it  fancy,  or  had  she  grown  paler  and  thinner 
since  I  had  last  seen  her  ?  Surely  those  dark  hollows 
under  her  eyes  that  told  of  worry  and  lost  sleep  were 
not  there  when  her  brightness  had  chained  my  ad 
miration.  I  could  guess  that  she  was  grieving  for 
Henry,  and  a  jealous  pang  shot  through  my  heart. 
She  gave  no  glance  in  my  direction  as  she  walked 
into  the  room  and  looked  about  her.  I  dreaded  her 
eye  as  I  hungered  for  a  look. 

"Luella!"  called  Mrs.  Knapp.  I  fancied  she  gave 
a  low,  musical  laugh  as  she  spoke,  yet  a  glance 
showed  me  that  her  face  was  calm  and  serious. 
"Luella,  here  is  some  one  you  will  like  to  see." 

Luella  Knapp  turned  and  advanced.  What  was 
the  look  that  lighted  up  her  face  and  sparkled  from 
her  eyes  ?  Before  I  could  analyze  the  magnetic  thrill 
that  came  from  it,  it  was  gone.  A  flush  passed  over 
her  face  and  died  away  as  she  came. 

"You  honor  our  poor  house  once  more?"  she  said, 
dropping  a  mock  courtesy.  "I  thought  you  had  de 
serted  us." 

I  was  surprised  at  this  line  of  attack,  and  for  a 
moment  my  little  army  of  ideas  was  thrown  into 
confusion.  I  felt,  rather  than  heard,  the  undertone 
that  carried  the  real  meaning  of  her  words. 


162  BLINDFOLDED 

"Not  I,"  said  I  stoutly,  recovering  myself,  and 
holding  out  my  hand.  I  saw  there  was  a  little  play 
to  be  carried  on  for  the  benefit  of  Mrs.  Knapp.  For 
some  reason  she  had  not  confided  in  her  mother. 
"Not  I.  I  am  always  your  very  humble  knight." 

I  saw  that  Mrs.  Knapp  was  looking  at  us  curi 
ously,  and  pressed  my  advantage.  Luella  took  my 
hand  unwillingly.  I  was  ready  to  dare  a  good  deal 
for  the  clasp  of  her  fingers,  but  I  scarcely  felt  the 
thrill  of  their  touch  before  she  had  snatched  them 
away. 

"There's  nothing  but  pretty  speeches  to  be  had 
from  you— and  quotations  at  that,"  she  said,  There 
was  malice  under  the  seeming  innocence  of  a  pre 
tended  pout. 

"There's  nothing  that  could  be  so  becoming  in  the 
circumstances." 

"Except  common  sense,"  frowned  Luella. 

"The  most  uncommon  of  qualities,  my  dear," 
laughed  Mrs.  Knapp.  "Sit  down,  children.  I  must 
see  to  Mr.  Carter,  who  is  lost  by  the  portiere  and  will 
never  be  discovered  unless  I  rescue  him." 

"Take  him  to  dear  Aunt  Julia,"  said  Luella  as  her 
mother  left  us. 

"Dear  Aunt  Julia,"  I  inferred,  was  Mrs.  Bowser. 

I  was  certain  that  Mr.  Carter  would  not  find  the 
demands  of  conversation  too  much  for  him  if  he  was 
blest  with  the  company  of  that  charming  dame. 

Luella  took  a  seat,  and  I  followed  her  example. 
Then,  with  chin  in  hand  and  elbow  on  the  arm  of  her 


I   AM    IN    THE   TOILS  163 

chair,  the  young  woman  looked  at  me  calmly  and 
thoughtfully. 

I  grew  a  little  uncomfortable  as  my  self-possession 
melted  away  before  this  steady  gaze.  I  had  no  ob 
servations  to  make,  being  uncertain  about  the 
weather,  so  I  had  the  prudence  to  keep  silent. 

"Well,"  said  Luella  at  last,  in  a  cutting  voice, 
"why  don't  you  talk  ?" 

"It's  your  lead,"  said  I  gloomily.  "You  took  the 
last  trick." 

At  this  reference  to  our  meeting,  Luella  looked 
surprised.  Then  she  gave  a  little  rippling  laugh. 

"Really,"  she  said,  "I  believe  I  shall  begin  to  like 
you,  yet."  . 

"That's  very  kind  of  you;  but  turn  about  is  fair 
play." 

"You  mustn't  do  that,"  said  she  severely,  "or  I 
shan't." 

"I  meant  it,"  said  I  defiantly. 

"Then  you  ought  to  know  better  than  to  say  it," 
she  retorted. 

"I'm  in  need  of  lessons,  I  fear." 

"How  delightful  of  you  to  confess  it !  Then  shall 
I  tell  you  what  to  do?" 

This  was  very  charming.  I  hastened  to  say : 

"Do,  by  all  means." 

The  young  woman  sank  back  in  her  chair,  clasped 
her  hands  in  her  lap  as  her  mother  had  done,  and 
glanced  hastily  about.  Then  in  a  low  voice  she  said : 

"Be  yourself." 


164  BLINDFOLDED 

It  was  an  electric  shock  she  gave  me,  not  more  by 
the  words  than  by  the  tone. 

I  struggled  for  a  moment  before  I  regained  my 
mental  balance. 

"Don't  you  think  we  could  get  on  safer  ground  ?" 
I  suggested. 

"No/'  said  Luella.  "There  isn't  any  safe  ground 
for  us  otherwise." 

The  sudden  heart-sickness  at  the  reminder  of  my 
mission  with  which  these  words  overwhelmed  me, 
tied  my  tongue  and  mastered  my  spirits.  It  was  this 
girl's  father  that  I  was  pursuing.  It  was  to  bring 
him  to  the  halter  that  I  must  keep  up  my  masquerade. 
It  was  to  bring  her  to  sorrow  and  disgrace  that  I  was 
bound  by  the  dead  hand  of  my  murdered  friend. 
Oh,  why  was  this  burden  laid  upon  me?  Why  was 
I  to  be  torn  on  the  rack  between  inclination  and 
duty? 

Luella  watched  my  face  narrowly  through  the 
conflict  in  my  mind,  and  I  felt  as  though  her  spirit 
struggled  with  mine  to  win  me  to  the  course  of  open, 
honest  dealing.  But  it  was  impossible.  She  must  be 
the  last  of  all  to  know. 

Her  eyes  sank  as  though  she  knew  which  had  won 
the  victory,  and  a  proud,  scornful  look  took  the  place 
of  the  grave  good  humor  that  had  been  there  a  mo 
ment  before.  Then,  on  a  sudden,  she  began  to  speak 
of  the  theaters,  rides,  drives  and  what-not  of  the 
pleasures  of  the  day.  To  an  observer  it  would  have 
seemed  that  we  were  deep  in  friendly  discourse ;  but 


I    AM    IN    THE   TOILS  165 

I,  who  felt  hsr  tone  and  manner,  knew  that  she  was 
miles  away  from  me  and  talking  but  for  the  appear 
ance  of  courtesy.  Suddenly  she  stopped  with  a 
weary  look. 

'There's  Aunt  Julia  waiting  for  you,"  she  said 
with  a  gleam  of  malicious  pleasure.  "Come  along. 
I  deliver  you  over  a  prisoner  of  war." 

"Wait  a  minute,"  I  pleaded. 

"No,"  she  said,  imperiously  motioning  me. 
"Come  along/'  And  with  a  sigh  I  was  given,  a  help 
less,  but  silently  protesting,  captive,  to  the  mercies 
of  Mrs.  Bowser. 

That  eloquent  lady  received  me  with  a  flutter  of 
feathers,  if  I  may  borrow  the  expression,  to  indicate 
her  pleasure. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Wilton,  you'll  pardon  my  boldness,  I'm 
sure,"  she  said  with  an  amiable  flirt  of  the  head,  as  I 
seated  myself  beside  her  and  watched  Luella  melt 
away  into  the  next  ropm ;  "but  I  was  afraid  you  had 
forgotten  all  about  us  poor  women,  and  it's  a  dread 
ful  thing  to  be  in  this  great  house  when  there  isn't 
a  man  about,  though  of  course  there  are  the  ser 
vants,  but  you  can't  count  them  as  men,  besides  some 
of  them  being  Chinamen.  And  we — I — that  is,  I 
really  did  want  to  see  you,  and  we  ought  to  have  so 
much  to  talk  over,  for  I've  heard  that  your  mother's 
first  cousin  was  a  Bowser,  and  I  do  so  want  to  see 
that  dear,  delightful  Chinatown  that  I've  heard  so 
much  about,  though  they  do  say  it's  horrid  and  dirty, 
but  you'll  let  us  see  that  for  ourselves,  won't  you, 


i66  BLINDFOLDED 

and  did  you  ever  go  through  Chinatown,  Mr.  Wil 
ton?" 

Mrs.  Bowser  pulled  up  her  verbal  coach-and-six 
so  suddenly  that  I  felt  as  though  she  must  have  been 
pitched  off  the  box. 

"Oh,"  said  I  carelessly,  "I've  seen  the  place  often 
enough." 

"How  nice !"  Then  suddenly  looking  grave,  Mrs. 
Bowser  spoke  from  behind  her  fan.  "But  I  hope, 
Mr.  Wilton,  there's  nothing  there  that  a  lady 
shouldn't  see." 

I  hastened  to  assure  her  that  it  was  possible  to 
avoid  everything  that  would  bring  a  blush  to  the 
cheek  of  a  matron  of  her  years. 

Mrs.  Bowser  at  this  rattled  on  without  coming  to 
any  point,  and,  after  waiting  to  learn  when  she  ex 
pected  to  claim  my  services,  and  seeing  no  prospect 
of  getting  such  information  without  a  direct  ques 
tion,  I  allowed  my  eyes  and  attention  to  wander 
about  the  room,  feeding  the  flow  of  speech,  when  it 
was  checked,  with  a  word  or  two  of  reply.  I  could 
see  nothing  of  Luella,  and  Mrs.  Knapp  appeared  to 
be  too  much  taken  up  with  other  guests  to  notice 
me.  I  was  listening  to  the  flow  of  Mrs.  Bowser's 
high-pitched  voice  without  getting  any  idea  from  it, 
when  my  wandering  attention  was  suddenly  recalled 
by  the  words,  "Mr.  Knapp." 

"What  was  that  ?"  I  asked  in  some  confusion.  "I 
didn't  catch  your  meaning." 

"I  was  saying  I  thought  it  strange  Mr.  Knapp 


I   AM    IN   THE   TOILS  167 

wouldn't  go  with  us,  and  he  got  awfully  cross  when 
I  pressed  him,  and  said — oh,  Mr.  Wilton,  he  said 
such  a  dreadful  word — that  he'd  be  everlastingly 
somethinged  if  he  would  ever  go  into  such  a  lot  of 
dens  of — oh,  I  can't  repeat  his  dreadful  language — 
but  wasn't  it  strange,  Mr.  Wilton  ?" 

"Very,"  I  said  diplomatically;  "but  it  isn't  worth 
while  to  wait  for  him,  then." 

"Oh,  laws,  no ! — he'll  be  home  to-morrow,  but  he 
won't  go." 

"Home  to-morrow !"  I  exclaimed.  "I  thought  he 
wasn't  to  come  till  Wednesday." 

Mrs.  Bowser  looked  a  little  uncomfortable. 

"I  guess  he's  old  enough  to  come  and  go  when  he 
likes,"  she  said.  But  her  flow  of  words  seemed  to 
desert  her. 

"Very  true,"  I  admitted.  "I  wonder  what's  bring 
ing  him  back  in  such  a  hurry." 

Mrs.  Bowser's  beady  eyes  turned  on  me  in  doubt, 
and  for  a  moment  she  was  dumb.  Then  she  followed 
this  miracle  by  another,  and  spoke  in  a  low  tone  of 


voice. 

M 


It's  not  for  me  to  say  anything  against  a  man  in 
his  own  house,  but  I  don't  like  to  talk  of  Doddridge 
Knapp." 

"What's  the  matter?"  I  asked.  "A  little  rough  in 
his  speech?  Oh,  Mrs.  Bowser,  you  should  make  al 
lowances  for  a  man  who  has  had  to  fight  his  way  in 
the  roughest  business  life  in  the  world,  and  not  ex 
pect  too  much  of  his  polish." 


i68  BLINDFOLDED 

"Oh,  laws,  he's  polite  enough,"  whispered  Mrs. 
Bowser.  "It  ain't  that — oh,  I  don't  see  how  she  ever 
married  him." 

I  followed  the  glance  that  Mrs.  Bowser  gave  on 
interrupting  herself  with  this  declaration,  and  saw 
Mrs.  Knapp  approaching  us. 

"Oh,"  she  exclaimed  cheerily,  "is  it  all  settled? 
Have  you  made  all  the  arrangements,  Cousin  Julia  ?" 

"Well,  I  declare!  I'd  forgotten  all  about  telling 
him,"  cried  Mrs.  Bowser  in  her  shrillest  tone.  "I'd 
just  taken  it  for  a  fact  that  he'd  know  when  to 


come." 


"That's  a  little  too  much  to  expect,  I'm  afraid,"' 
said  Mrs.  Knapp,  smiling  gaily  at  Mrs.  Bowser's 
management.  "I  see  that  I  shall  have  to  arrange  this 
thing  myself.  Will  Monday  night  suit  you,  Henry?" 

"As  well  as  another,"  said  I  politely,  concealing 
my  feelings  as  a  victim  of  feminine  diplomacy. 

"You  have  told  him  who  are  going,  haven't  you?" 
said  Mrs.  Knapp  to  Mrs.  Bowser. 

"Laws,  no !  I  never  thought  but  what  he  knew/' 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Knapp.  "What  a  gift  as  a 
mind-reader  Mr.  Wilton  ought  to  have !  Well,  I  sup 
pose  I'd  better  not  trust  to  that,  Henry.  There's  to 
be  Mrs.  Bowser,  of  course,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carter, 
and  Mr.  Horton,  and — oh,  yes — Luella." 

My  heart  gave  a  jump,  and  the  trip  to  Chinatown 
suddenly  became  an  object  of  interest. 

"I,  mama?"  said  an  inquiring  voice,  and  Luella 
herself  stood  by  her  mother. 


I  AM  IN  THE  TOILS  169 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp.  "It's  the  Chinatown  ex 
pedition  for  Monday  night." 

Luella  looked  annoyed,  and  tapped  her  foot  to  the 
floor  impatiently. 

"With  Mr.  Wilton,"  there  was  the  slightest  em 
phasis  on  the  words,  "to  accompany  the  party,  I 
shouldn't  think  it  would  be  necessary  for  me  to  go/' 

"It  is  either  you  or  I,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp. 

"You  will  be  needed  to  protect  Mr.  Horton,"  said 
I  sarcastically. 

"Oh,  what  a  task!"  she  said  gaily.  "I  shall  be 
ready."  And  she  turned  away  before  I  could  put  in 
another  word,  and  I  walked  down  the  room  with 
Mrs.  Knapp. 

"And  so  Mr.  Knapp  is  coming  home  to-morrow  ?" 
I  said. 

Mrs.  Knapp  gave  me  a  quick  look. 

"Yes,"  she  said.  There  was  something  in  her  tone 
that  set  me  to  thinking  that  there  was  more  than  I 
knew  behind  Mr.  Knapp's  sudden  return. 

"I  hope  he  is  not  ill,"  I  said  politely. 

Mrs.  Knapp  appeared  to  be  considering  some 
point  deeply,  and  did  not  answer  for  a  little.  Then 
she  shook  her  head  as  though  the  idea  was  not  to  her 
liking. 

"I  think  you  will  find  him  all  right  when  you  see 
him.  But  here — you  must  meet  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carter. 
They  are  just  from  the  East,  and  very  charming 
people,  and  as  you  are  to  do  them  the  honors  on 
Monday  evening,  you  should  know  them." 


i;o  BLINDFOLDED 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carter  had  pleasant  faces  and  few 
ideas,  and  as  the  conversational  fire  soon  burned  low 
I  sought  Mrs.  Knapp  and  took  my  leave.  Luella  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen. 

"You  must  be  sure  that  you  are  well-guarded," 
said  Mrs.  Knapp.  "It  quite  gives  me  the  terrors  to 
think  of  those  murderous  fellows.  And  since  you 
told  me  of  that  last  plot  to  call  you  down  to  Borton's, 
I  have  a  presentiment  that  some  special  danger  is 
ahead  of  you.  Be  cautious  as  well  as  brav^." 

She  had  followed  me  into  the  hall,  and  op  ~  -..c  her 
warning  freely.  There  was  a  sadness  in  her  eyes 
that  seemed  as  though  she  would  dissuade  me  from 
my  task. 

I  thanked  her  as  she  pressed  my  hand,  ".nc\  v/ith 
no  Luella  awaiting  me  by  the  stair,  I  took  my  way 
down  the  stone  steps,  between  the  bron7e  lions,  and 
joined  Porter  and  Barkhouse  on  the  sidewa'.... 


CHAPTER  XVI 

AN   ECHO  OF   WARNING 

"All  quiet  ?"  I  asked  of  my  guards,  as  we  took  our 
way  down  the  street. 

"All  quiet,"  said  Porter. 

"You'd  better  tell  him,"  said  Barkhouse. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Porter,  as  if  in  sudden  recollec 
tion.  "Dicky  Nahl  was  along  here,  and  he  said  Ter- 
rill  and  Meeker  and  the  other  gang  was  holding  a 
powwow  at  Borton's,  and  we'd  best  look  out  for  sur 
prises." 

"Was  that  all?" 

"Well,  he  said  he  guessed  there  was  a  new  deal  on 
hand,  and  they  was  a-buzzin'  like  a  nest  of  hornets. 
It  was  hornets,  wasn't  it,  Bob?" 

"Hornets  was  what  he  said,"  repeated  Barkhouse 
stolidly. 

"Where's  Dicky  now  ?"  I  asked.      , 

"I  ain't  good  at  guessing,"  said  Porter,  "and 
Bob's  nothing  at  all  at  it." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "we  had  better  go  down  to  Bor 
ton's  and  look  into  this  matter." 

There  was  silence  for  a  time.  My  guards  walked 
beside  me  without  speaking,  but  I  felt  the  protest 

171 


172  BLINDFOLDED 

in  their  manner.  At  last  Barkhouse  said  respect 
fully  : 

"There's  no  use  to  do  that,  sir.  You'd  better  send 
some  one  that  ain't  so  likely  to  be  nabbed,  or  that 
won't  matter  much  if  he  is.  We'd  be  in  a  pretty  fix 
if  you  was  to  be  took." 

"Here  comes  Dicky,  now,"  said  Porter,  as  a  dark 
figure  came  swinging  lightly  along. 

"Hullo!"  cried  Dicky,  halting  and  shading  his 
eyes  from  the  gaslight.  "I  was  just  going  up  to  look 
for  you  again." 

"What's  up,  Dicky?" 

"I  guess  it's  the  devil,"  said  Dicky,  so  gravely 
that  I  broke  into  a  laugh. 

"He's  right  at  home  if  he's  come  to  this  town,"  I 
said. 

"I'm  glad  you  find  it  so  funny,"  said  Dicky  in  an 
injured  tone.  "You  was  scared  enough  last  time." 

I  had  put  my  foot  in  it,  sure  enough.  I  might  have 
guessed  that  the  devil  was  not  his  Satanic  Majesty 
but  some  evil-minded  person  in  the  flesh  whom  I  had 
to  fear. 

"Can  it  be  Doddridge  Knapp?"  flashed  across  my 
mind  but  I  dismissed  the  suspicion  as  without  foun 
dation.  I  spoke  aloud : 

"Well,  I've  kept  out  of  his  claws  this  far,  and  it's 
no  use  to  worry.  What's  he  trying  to  do  now?" 

"That's  what  I've  been  trying  to  find  out  all  the 
evening.  They're  noisy  enough,  but  they're  too 
thick  to  let  one  get  near  where  there's  anything  go- 


AN    ECHO    OF   WARNING         173 

ing  on — that  is,  if  he  has  a  fancy  for  keeping  a  whole 
skin." 

"Suppose  we  go  down  there  now/'  I  suggested. 
"We  might  find  out  something." 

Dicky  stopped  short. 

"Csesar's  ghost!"  he  gasped;  "what  next? 
Wouldn't  you  like  to  touch  off  a  few  powder-kegs 
for  amusement?  Won't  you  fire  a  pistol  into  your 
mouth  to  show  how  easy  you  can  stop  the  bullet  ?" 

"Why,  you  have  been  down  there  and  are  all 
right,"  I  argued. 

"Well,  there's  nothing  much  to  happen  to  me,  but 
where  would  you  be  if  they  got  hold  of  you  ?  You're 
getting  off  your  cabesa,  old  fellow,"  said  Dicky  anx 
iously. 

"If  I  could  see  Mother  Borton  I  could  fix  it,"  I 
said  confidently. 

"What!  That  she-devil?"  cried  Dicky.  "She'd 
give  you  up  to  have  your  throat  cut  in  a  minute  if 
she  could  get  a  four-bit  piece  for  your  carcass.  I 
guess  she  could  get  more  than  that  on  you,  too." 

Mother  Borton's  warnings  against  Dicky  Nahl 
returned  to  me  with  force  at  this  expression  of  es 
teem  from  the  young  man,  and  I  was  filled  with 
doubts. 

"I  came  up  to  tell  you  to  look  out  for  yourself," 
continued  Dicky.  "I'm  afraid  they  mean  mischief, 
and  here  you  come  with  a  wild  scheme  for  getting 
into  the  thick  of  it."  • 

"Well,  I'll  think  better  of  it,"  I  said.   "But  see  if 


174  BLINDFOLDED 

you  can  find  out  what  is  going  on.  Come  up  and 
let  me  know  if  you  get  an  inkling  of  their  plans." 

"All  right,"  said  Dicky.  "But  just  sleep  on  a  hair- 
trigger  to-night." 

"Good  night,"  I  said,  as  I  turned  toward  my  room, 
and  Dicky,  with  an  answering  word,  took  his  way  to 
ward  the  Borton  place. 

I  had  grown  used  to  the  silent  terrors  of  my  house. 
The  weird  fancies  that  clung  around  the  gloomy 
halls  and  dark  doorways  still  whispered  their  threat 
ening  tales  of  danger  and  death.  The  air  was  still 
peopled  with  the  ghosts  of  forgotten  crimes,  and  the 
tragedy  of  the  alley  that  had  changed  my  life  was 
heavy  on  the  place.  But  habit,  and  the  confidence 
that  had  come  to  me  with  the  presence  of  my  guards, 
had  made  it  a  tolerable  spot  in  which  to  live.  But  as 
we  stumbled  up  the  stairway  the  apprehensions  of 
Dicky  Nahl  came  strong  upon  me,  and  I  looked 
ahead  to  the  murky  halls,  and  glanced  at  every  door 
way,  as  though  I  expected  an  ambush.  Porter  arid 
Barkhouse  marched  stolidly  along,  showing  little 
disposition  to  talk. 

"What's  that?"  I  exclaimed,  stopping  to  listen. 

"What  was  it?"  asked  Barkhouse,  as  we  stopped 
on  the  upper  landing  and  gazed  into  the  obscurity. 

"I  thought  I  heard  a  noise,"  said  I.  "Who's 
there?" 

"It  was  a  rat,"  said  Porter.  "I've  heard  'em  out 
here  of  nights." 

"Well,  just  light  that  other  gas-jet,"  I  said.    "It 


AN    ECHO   OF   WARNING        175 

will  help  to  make  things  pleasant  in  case  of  acci 
dents." 

The  doors  came  out  of  the  darkness  as  the  second 
jet  blazed  up,  but  nothing  else  was  to  be  seen. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  scramble,  and  something 
sprang  up  before  my  door.  Porter  and  I  raised  the 
revolvers  that  were  ready  in  our  hands,  but  Bark- 
house  sprang  past  us,  and  in  an  instant  had  closed 
with  the  figure  and  held  it  in  his  arms. 

There  was  a  volley  of  curses,  oaths  mingled  with 
sounds  that  reminded  me  of  nothing  so  much  as  a 
spitting  cat,  and  a  familiar  voice  screamed  in  almost 
inarticulate  rage : 

"Let  me  go,  damn  ye,  or  I'll  knife  ye!" 

"Good  heavens!"  I  cried.  "Let  her  go,  Bark- 
house.  It's  Mother  Borton." 

Mother  Borton  freed  herself  with  a  vicious  shake, 
and  called  down  the  wrath  of  Heaven  and  hell  on 
the  stalwart  guard. 

"You're  the  black-hearted  spawn  of  the  sewer 
rats,  to  take  a  respectable  woman  like  a  bag  of  meal," 
cried  Mother  Borton  indignantly,  with  a  fresh  string 
of  oaths.  "It's  fire  and  brimstone  you'll  be  tasting 
yet,  and  you'd  'a'  been  there  before  now,  you  miser 
able  gutter-picker,  if  it  wasn't  for  me.  And  this  is 
the  thanks  I  git  from  ye !" 

"I'll  apologize  for  his  display  of  gallantry,"  said 
I  banteringly.  "I've  always  told  him  that  he  was  too 
fond  of  the  ladies." 

I  was  mistaken  in  judging  that  this  tone  would  be 


•176  BLINDFOLDED 

the  most  effective  to  restore  her  to  good  humor. 
Mother  Borton  turned  on  me  furiously. 

"Oh,  it's  you  that  would  set  him  on  a  poor  woman 
as  comes  to  do  you  a  service.  I  was  as  wide-awake 
as  any  of  ye.  I  never  closed  my  eyes  a  wink,  and 
you  has  to  come  a-sneakin'  up  and  settin'  your  dogs 
on  me."  Mother  Borton  again  drew  on  an  ap 
parently  inexhaustible  vocabulary  of  oaths.  "Oh, 
you're  as  bad  as  him/'  she  shouted,  "and  I  reckon 
you'd  be  worse  if  you  knowed  how."  And  she  spat 
out  more  curses,  and  shook  her  fist  in  impotent  but 
verbose  rage. 

"Come  in,"  I  said,  unlocking  the  door  and  light 
ing  up  my  room.  "You  can  be  as  angry  as  you  like 
in  here,  and  it  won't  hurt  anything." 

Mother  Borton  stormed  a  bit,  and  then  sullenly 
walked  in  and  took  a  chair.  Silence  fell  on  her  as 
she  crossed  the  threshold,  but  she  glowered  on  us 
with  fierce  eyes. 

"It's  quite  an  agreeable  surprise  to  see  you,"  I 
ventured  as  cheerfully  as  I  could,  as  she  made  no 
move  to  speak.  My  followers  looked  awkward  and 
uncomfortable. 

At  the  sound  of  my  voice,  Mother  Borton's  bent 
brows  relaxed  a  little. 

"If  you'd  send  these  fellows  out,  I  reckon  we 
could  talk  a  bit  better,"  she  said  sourly. 

"Certainly.  Just  wait  in  the  hall,  boys ;  and  close 
the  door." 

Porter  and  Barkhouse  ambled  out,  and  Mother 


Mother  Borton  sullenly  took  a  chair          Page 


AN    ECHO    OF   WARNING         177 

Borton  gave  her  chair  a  hitch  that  brought  us  face 
to  face. 

"You  ain't  so  bad  off  here,"  she  said,  looking 
around  critically.  "Can  any  one  git  in  them  win 
ders?" 

I  explained  that  the  west  window  might  be  en-1 
tered  from  the  rear  stairway  by  the  aid  of  the  heavy 
shutter,  if  it  were  swung  back  and  the  window  were 
open.  I  added  that  we  kept  it  closed  and  secured. 

"And  you  say  there's  a  thirty-foot  drop  from  this 
winder?"  she  inquired,  pointing  to  the  north. 

I  described  the  outlook  on  the  alley. 

She  nodded  as  if  satisfied. 

"I  reckon  you  don't  think  I  come  on  a  visit  of  per- 
liteness?"  she  said  sharply,  after  a  brief  silence. 

I  murmured  something  about  being  glad  to  enter 
tain  her  at  any  time. 

"Nonsense!"  she  sniffed.  "I'm  a  vile  old  woman 
that  the  likes  of  you  would  never  put  eyes  on  twice 
if  it  wasn't  for  your  business — none  knows  it  better 
than  me.  I  don't  know  why  I  should  put  myself  out 
to  help  ye."  Her  tone  had  a  touch  of  pathos  under 
its  hardness. 

"I  know  why,"  I  said,  a  little  touched.  "It's  be-^ 
cause  you  like  me." 

She  turned  a  softened  eye  on  me. 

"You're  right,"  she  said  almost  tenderly,  with  a 
flash  of  womanly  feeling  on  her  seamed  and  evil 
face.  "I've  took  a  fancy  to  ye  and  no  mistake,  and 
I'd  risk  something  to  help  ye." 


178  BLINDFOLDED 

"I  knew  you  would,"  I  said  heartily. 
"And  that's  what  I  come  to  do/'  she  said,  with  a 
sparkle  of  pleasure  in  her  eye.   "I've  come  to  warn 

ye-" 

"New  dangers?"  I  inquired  cheerfully.  My  pru 
dence  suggested  that  I  had  better  omit  any  mention 
of  the  warning  from  Dicky  Nahl. 

"The  same  ones,"  said  Mother  Borton  shortly, 
"only  more  of  'em." 

Then  she  eyed  me  grimly,  crouching  in  her  chair 
with  the  appearance  of  an  evil  bird  of  prey,  and 
seemed  to  wait  for  me  to  speak. 

"What  is  the  latest  plot?"  I  asked  gravely,  as  I 
fancied  that  my  light  manner  grated  on  my  strange 
guest. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said  slowly. 

"But.  you  know  something,"  I  argued. 

"Maybe  you  know  what  I  know  better  than  I 
knows  it  myself,"  growled  Mother  Borton  with  a 
significant  glance. 

I  resigned  myself  to  await  her  humor. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  I  carelessly.  "I  only  know  that 
you've  come  to  tell  me  something,  and  that  you'll 
tell  it  in  your  own  good  time." 

"It's  fine  to  see  that  you've  learned  not  to  drive 
a  woman,"  she  returned  with  grim  irony.  "It's 
something  to  know  at  your  age." 

I  smiled  sympathetically  upon  her,  and  she  con 
tinued  : 

"I  might  as  well  tell  ye  the  whole  of  it,  though  I 


AN    ECHO    OF   WARNING         179 

reckon  my  throat's  jist  as  like  to  be  slit  over  it  as 
not." 

"I'll  never  breathe  a  word  of  it,"  I  replied  fer 
vently. 

"I'd  trust  ye,"  she  said.  "Well,  there  was  a  gang 
across  the  street  to-night — across  from  my  place,  I 
mean — and  that  sneaking  Tom  Terrill  and  Darby 
Meeker,  and  I  reckon  all  the  rest  of  'em,  was  there. 
And  they  was  runnin'  back  and  forth  to  my  place, 
and  a-drinkin'  a  good  deal,  and  the  more  they  drinks 
the  louder  they  talks.  And  I  hears  Darby  Meeker 
say  to  one  feller,  'We'll  git  him,  sure !'  and  I  listens 
with  all  my  ears,  though  pretendin'  to  see  nothin'. 
'We'll  fix  it  this  time,'  he  said ;  'the  Old  Un's  got  his 
thinkin'  cap  on.'  And  I  takes  in  every  word,  and  by 
one  thing  and  another  I  picks  up  that  there's  new 
schemes  afoot  to  trap  ye.  They  was  a-sayin'  as  it 
might  be  an  idee  to  take  ye  as  you  come  out  of 
Knapp's  to-night." 

"How  did  they  know  I  was  at  Knapp's  ?"  I  asked, 
somewhat  surprised,  though  I  had  little  reason  to  be 
when  I  remembered  the  number  of  spies  who  might 
have  watched  me. 

"Why,  Dicky  Nahl  told  'em,"  said  Mother  Bor- 
ton.  "He  was  with  the  gang,  and  sings  it  out  as 
pretty  as  you  please." 

This  gave  me  something  new  to  think  about,  but 
I  said  nothing. 

"Well,"  she  continued,  "they  says  at  last  that 
won't  do,  fer  it'll  git  'em  into  trouble,  and  I  reckon 


i8o  BLINDFOLDED 

they're  argylying  over  their  schemes  yit.  But  one 
thing  I  finds  out." 

Mother  Borton  stopped  and  looked  at  me  anx 
iously. 

"Well,"  I  said  impatiently,  "what  was  it?" 

"They're  a-sayin'  as  how,  if  you're  killed,  the  one 
as  you  knows  on  '11  have  to  git  some  one  else  to  look 
after  the  boy,  and  mebbe  he  won't  be  so  smart  about 
foolin'  them." 

"That's  an  excellent  idea,"  said  I.  "If  they  only 
knew  that  I  was  the  other  fellow  they  could  see  at 
once  what  a  bright  scheme  they  had  hit  upon." 

"Maybe  they  ain't  a-goin'  to  do  it,"  said  Mother 
Borton.  "There's  a  heap  o'  things  said  over  the 
liquor  that  don't  git  no  further,  but  you'll  be  a  fool 
if  you  don't  look  out.  Now,  do  as  I  tell  you.  You 
just  keep  more  men  around  you.  Keep  eyes  in  the 
back  of  your  head,  and  if  you  see  there's  a-goin'  to 
be  trouble,  jest  you  shoot  first  and  ax  questions  about 
it  afterward.  They  talked  of  getting  you  down  on 
the  water-front  or  up  in  Chinatown  with  some  bogus 
message  and  said  how  easy  it  would  be  to  dispose  of 
you  without  leaving  clues  behind  'em.  Now,  don't 
you  sleep  here  without  three  or  four  men  on  guard, 
and  don't  you  stir  round  nights  with  less  than  four. 
Send  Porter  out  to  git  two  more  men,  and  tell  him 
to  look  sharp  and  see  if  the  coast's  clear  outside.  I 
reckon  I'll  slide  out  if  no  one's  lookin'." 

"I've  got  some  men  on  the  next  floor,"  I  said.  "I 
thought  it  would  be  just  as  well  to  have  a  few 


AN   ECHO   OF   WARNING        181 

around  in  case  of  emergencies.  I'll  have  two  of  them 
out,  and  send  Porter  to  reconnoiter." 

"Who  told  you  to  git  your  men  together  ?" 

"A  little  idea  of  my  own." 

"You've  got  some  sense,  after  all." 

The  reinforcements  were  soon  ready  to  take  or 
ders,  and  Porter  returned  to  bring  word  that  no  sus 
picious  person  was  in  sight  in  the  street. 

"I  reckon  I'd  best  go,  then,"  said  Mother  Borton. 
"I  don't  want  no  knife  in  me  jest  yit,  but  if  there's 
no  one  to  see  me  I'm  all  right." 

I  pressed  Mother  Borton  to  take  two  of  my  men 
as  escort,  but  she  sturdily  refused. 

"They'd  know  something  was  up  if  I  was  to  go 
around  that  way,  and  I'd  be  a  bloody  ghost  as  soon 
as  they  could  ketch  me  alone,"  she  said.  "Well, 
good  night — or  is  it  mornin'  ?  And  do  take  keer  of 
yourself,  dearie."  And,  so  saying,  Mother  Borton 
muffled  herself  up  till  it  was  hard  to  tell  whether  she 
was  man  or  woman,  and  trudged  away. 

Whatever  designs  were  brewing  in  the  night- 
meeting  of  the  conspirators,  they  did  not  appear  to 
concern  my  immediate  peace  of  body.  The  two  fol 
lowing  days  were  spent  in  quiet,  and,  in  spite  of 
warnings,  I  began  to  believe  that  no  new  plan  of 
action  had  been  determined  on. 

"Don't  you  feel  too  sure  of  yourself,"  said  Dicky 
Nahl,  to  whom  I  confided  this  view  of  the  situation, 
"You  won't  feel  so  funny  about  it  if  you  get  prodded 
in  the  ribs  with  a  bowie  some  dark  night,  or  find 


1 82  BLINDFOLDED 

your  head  wrapped  up  in  a  blanket  when  you  think 
you're  just  taking  a  'passy-ar'  in  Washington 
Square  in  the  evening." 

Dicky  looked  very  much  in  earnest,  and  his  bright 
and  airy  manner  was  gone  for  the  moment. 

"You  seem  to  get  along  well  enough  with  them," 
I  suggested  tartly,  remembering  Mother  Borton's 
stories  with  some  suspicion. 

"Of  course,"  said  Dicky.  "Why  shouldn't  I? 
They're  all  right  if  you  don't  rub  the  fur  the  wrong 
way.  But  I  haven't  got  state  secrets  in  my  pockets, 
so  they  know  it's  no  use  to  pick  'em." 

I  was  not  at  all  sure  of  Dicky's  fidelity,  in  spite  of 
his  seeming  earnestness,  but  I  forbore  to  mention 
my  doubts,  and  left  the  garrulous  young  man  to  go 
his  way  while  I  turned  to  the  office  that  had  been 
furnished  by  Doddridge  Knapp.  I  hardly  expected 
to  meet  the  King  of  the  Street.  He  had,  I  supposed, 
returned  to  the  city,  but  he  had  set  Wednesday  as 
the  day  for  resuming  operations  in  the  market,  and 
I  did  not  think  that  he  would  be  found  here  on 
Monday. 

The  room  was  cold  and  cheerless,  and  the  dingy 
,books  in  law-calf  appeared  to  gaze  at  me  in  mute 
protest  as  I  looked  about  me. 

The  doors  that  separated  me  from  Doddridge 
Knapp's  room  were  shut  and  locked.  What  was  be 
hind  them?  I  wondered.  Was  there  anything  in 
Doddridge  Knapp's  room  that  bore  on  the  mystery 
of  the  hidden  boy,  or  would  give  the  clue  to  the 


AN    ECHO    OF   WARNING         183 

murder  of  Henry  Wilton  ?  As  I  gazed  on  the  panels 
the  questions  became  more  and  more  insistent.  Was 
it  not  my  duty  to  find  the  answer  ?  The  task  brought 
my  mind  to  revolt.  Yet  the  thought  grew  on  me 
that  it  was  necessary  to  my  task.  If  vengeance  was 
to  be  mine;  if  Doddridge  Knapp  was  to  pay  the 
penalty  of  the  gallows  for  the  death  of  Henry  Wil 
ton,  it  must  be  by  the  evidence  that  I  should  wrest 
from  him  and  his  tools.  I  must  not  stop  at  rummag 
ing  papers,  nor  at  listening  at  keyholes.  I  had  just 
this  morning  secured  the  key  that  would  fit  the  first 
door.  I  had  taken  the  impression  of  the  lock  and  had 
it  made  without  definite  purpose,  but  now  I  was 
ready  to  act. 

With  a  sinking  heart  but  a  clear  head  I  put  the  key 
cautiously  to  the  lock  and  gently  turned  it.  The  key 
fitted  perfectly,  and  the  bolt  flew  back  as  it  made  the 
circle.  I  opened  the  door  into  the  middle  room.  The 
second  door,  as  I  expected,  was  closed.  Would  the 
same  key  fit  the  second  lock,  or  must  I  wait  to  have 
another  made?  I  advanced  to  the  second  door  and 
was  about  to  try  the  key  when  a  sound  from  behind  it 
turned  my  blood  to  water. 

Beyond  that  door,  from  the  room  I  had  supposed 
to  be  empty,  I  heard  a  groan. 

I  stood  as  if*  petrified,  and,  in  the  broad  daylight 
that  streamed  in  at  the  window,  with  the  noise  and 
rush  of  Clay  Street  ringing  in  my  ears,  I  felt  my 
hair  rise  as  though  I  had  come  on  a  ghost.  I  lis 
tened  a  minute  or  more,  but  heard  nothing. 


184  BLINDFOLDED 

"Nonsense!"  I  thought  to  myself;  "it  was  a  trick 
of  the  imagination." 

I  raised  my  hand  once  more  to  the  lock,  when  the 
sound  broke  again,  louder,  unmistakable.  It  was 
the  voice  of  one  in  distress  of  body  or  mind. 

What  was  it  ?  Could  it  be  some  prisoner  of  Dodd- 
ridge  Knapp's,  brought  hither  by  the  desperate  band 
that  owned  him  as  employer?  Was  it  a  man  whom 
I  might  succor?  Or  was  it  Doddridge  Knapp  him 
self,  overwhelmed  by  recollection  and  remorse,  do 
ing  penance  in  solitude  for  the  villainy  he  had  done 
and  dared  not  confess?  I  listened  with  all  my  ears. 
Then  there  came  through  the  door  the  low,  stern 
tones  of  a  man's  voice  speaking  earnestly,  plead 
ingly,  threateningly,  but  in  a  suppressed  monotone. 

Then  the  groan  broke  forth  again,  and  it  was  fol 
lowed  by  sobs  and  choked  sounds,  as  of  one  who  pro 
tested,  yet,  strangely,  the  voice  was  the  same.  There 
was  one  man,  not  two.  It  was  self-accusation,  self- 
excuse,  and  the  sobs  seemed  to  come  in  answer  to 
self-reproaches. 

Then  there  was  sound  as  of  a  man  praying,  and 
the  prayer  was  broken  by  sobs ;  and  again  I  thought 
there  were  two  men.  And  then  there  was  noise  of  a 
man  moving  about,  and  a  long  smothered  groan,  as 
of  one  in  agony  of  spirit.  Fearful'  that  the  door 
might  be  flung  open  in  my  face,  I  tiptoed  back  to  my 
room,  and  silently  turned  the  key,  as  thoroughly 
mystified  as  ever  I  had  been  in  the  strange  events 
that  had  crowded  my  life  since  I  had  entered  the  city. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

IN    A   FOREIGN   LAND 

I  stood  long  by  my  own  door,  irresolute,  listening, 
hoping,  fearing,  my  brain  throbbing  with  the  effort 
to  seize  some  clue  to  the  maze  of  mysteries  in 
which  I  was  entangled.  Was  the  clue  behind  those 
locked  doors?  Did  the  man  whose  groans  and 
prayers  had  startled  me  hold  the  heart  of  the  mys 
tery? 

The  groans  and  prayers,  if  they  continued,  could 
be  heard  no  longer  through  the  double  doors,  and  I 
seated  myself  by  the  desk  and  took  account  of  the 
events  that  had  brought  me  to  my  present  position. 

Where  did  I  stand?  What  had  I  accomplished? 
What  had  I  learned?  How  was  I  to  reach  the  end 
for  which  I  struggled  and  bring  to  justice  the  slayer, 
of  my  murdered  friend?  As  I  passed  in  review  the 
occurrences  that  had  crowded  the  few  weeks  since 
my  arrival,  I  was  compelled  to  confess  that  I  knew 
little  more  of  the  mysteries  that  surrounded  me  than 
on  the  night  I  arrived.  I  knew  that  I  was  tossed  be 
tween  two  opposing  forces.  I  knew  that  a  mysteri 
ous  boy  was  supposed  to  be  under  my  protection, 
and  that  to  gain  and  keep  possession  of  him  my  life 

185 


i86  BLINDFOLDED 

was  sought  and  defended.  I  knew  that  Doddridge 
Knapp  had  caused  the  murder  of  Henry  Wilton,  and 
yet  for  some  unfathomable  reason  gave  me  his  con 
fidence  and  employment  under  the  belief  that  I  was 
Henry  Wilton.  But  I  had  been  able  to  get  no  hint 
of  who  the  boy  might  be,  or  where  he  was  concealed, 
or  who  was  the  hidden  woman  who  employed  me  to 
protect  him,  or  why  he  was  sought  by  Doddridge 
Knapp.  Mother  Borton's  vague  hints  seemed  little 
better  than  guess-work.  If  she  knew  the  name  of  the 
boy  and  the  identity  of  the  woman,  she  had  some 
good  reason  for  concealing  them.  It  flashed  over  my 
mind  that  Mother  Borton  might  herself  be  the  mys 
terious  employer.  I  had  never  yet  seen  a  line  of  her 
handwriting,  and  the  notes  might  have  come  from 
her.  It  was  she  who  first  had  told  me  that  my  men 
were  already  paid,  and  a  few  hours  later  I  had  found 
the  note  from  my  employer  assuring  me  that  the  de 
mands  were  fully  settled.  Could  it  be  that  she  was 
the  woman  with  whom  Doddridge  Knapp  was  bat 
tling  with  a  desperate  purpose  that  did  not  stop  at 
murder?  The  idea  was  gone  as  soon  as  it  came.  It 
was  preposterous  to  suppose  that  these  two  could 
feel  so  overwhelming  an  interest  in  the  same  child. 

How  long  I  sat  by  the  desk  waiting,  thinking, 
planning,  I  know  not.  One  scheme  of  action  after 
another  I  had  considered  and  rejected,  when  a  sound 
broke  on  my  listening  ears.  I  started  up  in  fever 
ish  anxiety.  It  was  from  the  room  beyond,  and  I 
stole  toward  the  door  to  learn  what  it  might  mean. 


IN   A   FOREIGN   LAND  187 

Again  it  came,  but,  strain  as  I  might,  I  could  not  de 
termine  its  cause.  What  could  be  going  on  in  the 
locked  office?  If  two  men  were  there  was  it  a  per 
sonal  encounter?  If  one  man,  was  he  doing  violence 
upon  himself?  Was  the  heart  of  the  mystery  to  be 
found  behind  those  doors  if  I  had  the  courage  to 
throw  them  open  ?  Burning  with  impatience,  I  thrust 
aside  the  fears  of  the  evil  that  might  follow  hasty 
action.  I  had  drawn  the  key  and  raised  it  once  more 
to  the  slot,  when  I  heard  a  step  in  the  middle  room. 
I  had  but  time  to  retreat  to  my  desk  when  a  key  was 
fitted  in  the  lock,  the  door  was  flung  open,  and  Dodd- 
ridge  Knapp  stepped  calmly  into  the  room. 

"Ah,  Wilton,"  said  the  King  of  the  Street  affably. 
"I  was  wondering  if  I  should  find  you  here." 

There  was  no  trace  of  surprise  or  agitation  in  the 
face  before  me.  If  this  was  the  man  whose  prayers 
and  groans  and  sobs  had  come  to  me  through  the 
locked  door,  if  he  had  wrestled  with  his  conscience 
or  even  had  been  the  accusing  conscience  of  another, 
his  face  was  a  mask  that  showed  no  trace  of  the 
agony  of  thoughts  that  might  contort  the  spirit  be 
neath  it. 

"I  was  attending  to  a  little  work  of  my  own,"  I 
answered,  after  greeting.  If  I  felt  much  like  a  dis 
concerted  pickpocket  I  was  careful  to  conceal  the 
circumstance,  and  spoke  with  easy  indifference. 
"You  have  come  back  before  I  expected  you,"  I  con 
tinued  carelessly. 

"Yes,"  said  the  King  of  the  Street  with  equal 


i88  BLINDFOLDED 

carelessness.  "Some  family  affairs  called  me  home 
sooner  than  I  had  thought  to  come." 

I  had  an  inward  start.  Mrs.  Knapp's  troubled 
look,  Mrs.  Bowser's  confusion,  and  the  few  words 
that  had  passed,  returned  to  me.  What  was  the  con 
nection  between  them  ? 

"Mrs.  Knapp  is  not  ill,  I  trust?"  I  ventured. 

"Oh,  no." 

"Nor  Miss  Knapp?" 

"Oh,  all  are  well  at  the  house,  but  sometimes  you 
know  women-folks  get  nervous." 

Was  it  possible  that  Mrs.  Knapp  had  sent  for  her 
husband  ?  What  other  meaning  could  I  put  on  these 
words  ?  But  before  I  could  pursue  my  investigations 
further  along  this  line,  the  wolf  came  co  the  surface, 
and  he  waved  the  subject  aside  with  a  growl. 

"But  this  is  nothing  to  you.  What  you  want  to 
know  is  that  I  won't  need  you  before  Wednesday, 
if  then." 

"Does  the  campaign  reopen  ?"  I  asked. 

"If  you  don't  mind,  Wilton,"  said  the  Wolf  with 
another  growl,  "I'll  keep  my  plans  till  I'm  ready  to 
use  them." 

"Certainly,"  I  retorted.  "But  maybe  you  would 
feel  a  little  interest  to  know  that  Rosenheim  and 
Bashford  have  gathered  in  about  a  thousand  shares 
of  Omega  in  the  last  four  or  five  days." 

Doddridge  Knapp  gave  me  a  keen  glance. 

"There  were  no  sales  of  above  a  hundred  shares," 
he  said. 


IN   A    FOREIGN    LAND  189 

"No — most  of  them  ran  from  ten  to  fifty  shares." 

"Well,"  he  continued,  looking  fixedly  at  me,  "you 
know  something  about  Rosenheim?" 

"If  it  won't  interfere  with  your  plans,"  I  sug 
gested  apologetically. 

The  Wolf  drew  back  his  lips  over  his  fangs,  and 
then  turned  the  snarl  into  a  smile. 

"Go  on,"  he  said,  waving  amends  for  the  snub  he 
had  administered. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  much  about  Rosenheim,  but 
I  caught  him  talking  with  Decker." 

"Were  the  stocks  transferred  to  Decker?" 

"No;  they  stand  to  Rosenheim,  trustee." 

"Well,  Wilton,  they've  stolen  a  march  on  us,  but 
I  reckon  we'll  give  'em  a  surprise  before  they're 
quite  awake." 

"And,"  I  continued  coolly,  "Decker's  working  up 
a  deal  in  Crown  Diamond  and  toying  a  little  with 
Confidence — you  gave  me  a  week  to  find  out,  you 
may  remember." 

"Very  good,  Wilton,"  said  the  King  of  the  Street 
with  grudging  approval.  "We'll  sell  old  Decker 
quite  a  piece  of  Crown  Diamond  before  he  gets 
through.  And  now  is  there  anything  more  in  your 
pack?" 

"It's  empty,"  I  confessed. 

"Well,  you  may  go  then." 

I  was  puzzled  to  know  why  Doddridge  Knapp 
should  wish  to  get  me  out  of  the  office.  Was  there 
some  secret  locked  in  his  room  that  he  feared  I 


190  BLINDFOLDED 

might  surprise  if  I  stayed  ?  I  looked  at  him  sharply, 
but  there  was  nothing  to  be  read  on  that  impassive 
face. 

Docldridge  Knapp  followed  me  to  the  door,  and 
stood  on  the  threshold  as  I  walked  down  the  hall. 
There  was  no  chance  for  spying  or  listening  at  key 
holes,  if  I  were  so  inclined,  and  it  was  not  until  I 
had  reached  the  bottom  stair  that  I  thought  I  heard 
the  sound  of  a  closing  door  behind  me. 

As  I  stood  at  the  entrance,  almost  oblivious  of 
the  throng  that  was  hurrying  up  and  down  Clay 
Street,  Porter  joined  me. 

"Did  you  see  him?"  he  asked. 

"Him?    Who?" 

"Why,  Tom  Terrill  sneaked  down  those  stairs  a 
little  bit  ago,  and  I  thought  you  might  have  found 
him  up  there." 

Could  it  be  possible  that  this  man  had  been  with 
Doddridge  Knapp,  and  that  it  was  his  voice  I  had 
heard  ?  This  in  turn  seemed  improbable,  hardly  pos 
sible. 

"There  he  is  now,"  whispered  Porter. 

I  turned  my  eyes  in  the  direction  he  indicated, 
and  a  shock  ran  through  me;  for  my  eye  had  met 
the  eye  of  a  serpent.  Yes,  there  again  was  the  cruel, 
keen  face,  and  the  glittering,  repulsive  eye,  filled 
with  malice  and  hatred,  that  I  had  beheld  with  loath 
ing  and  dread  whenever  it  had  come  in  my  path. 
With  an  evil  glance  Terrill  turned  and  made  off  in 
the  crowd. 


IN   A   FOREIGN   LAND  191 

"Follow  that  man,  Wainwright,"  said  I  to  the 
second  guard,  who  was  close  at  hand.  "Watch  him 
to-night  and  report  to  me  to-morrow." 

I  wondered  what  could  be  the  meaning  of  Terrill's 
visit  to  the  building.  Was  it  to  see  Doddridge  Knapp 
and  get  his  orders  ?  Or  was  it  to  follow  up  some  new 
plan  to  wrest  from  me  the  secret  I  was  supposed  to 
hold?  But  there  was  no  answer  to  these  questions, 
and  I  turned  toward  my  room  to  prepare  for  the  ex 
cursion  that  had  been  set  for  the  evening. 

It  was  with  hope  and  fear  that  I  took  my  way  to 
the  Pine  Street  palace.  It  was  my  fear  that  was 
realized.  Mrs.  Bowser  fell  to  my  lot — indeed,  I  may 
say  that  I  was  surrounded  by  her  in  force,  and  sur 
rendered  unconditionally — while  Luella  joined  Mr. 
Carter,  and  Mrs.  Carter  with  Mr.  Horton  followed. 

Corson  was  waiting  for  us  at  the  old  City  Hall.  I 
had  arranged  \vith  the  policeman  that  he  should  act 
as  our  guide,  and  had  given  him  Porter  and  Bark- 
house  as  assistants  in  case  any  should  be  needed. 

"A  fine  night  for  it,  sor,"  said  Corson  in  greeting. 
"There's  a  little  celebration  goin'  on  among  the 
haythens  to-night,  so  you'll  see  'em  at  their  best." 

"Oh,  how  sweet!"  gushed  Mrs.  Bowser.  "Is  it 
that  dear  China  New  Year  that  I've  heard  tell  on, 
and  do  they  take  you  in  to  dinner  at  every  place  you 
call,  and  do  they  really  eat  rats?  Ugh,  the  horrid 
things!"  And  Mrs.  Bowser  pulled  up  short  in  mid 
career. 

"No,  ma'am,"  said  Corson,   "leastways  it  ain't 


192  BLINDFOLDED 

Chancy  New  Year  for  a  couple  of  months  yet.  As 
for  eatin'  rats,  there's  many  a  thing  gets  eaten  up 
in  the  dens  that  would  be  better  by  bein'  turned  into 
a  rat." 

Looking  across  the  dark  shrubbery  of  Portsmouth 
Square  and  up  Washington  Street,  the  eye  could 
catch  a  line  of  gay-colored  lanterns,  swaying  in  the 
light  wind,  and  casting  a  mellow  glow  on  buildings 
and  walks. 

"Oh,  isn't  it  sweet!  So  charming!"  cried  Mrs. 
Bowser,  as  we  came  into  full  view  of  the  scene  and 
crossed  the  invisible  line  that  carries  one  from 
modern  San  Francisco  into  the  ancient  oriental  city, 
instinct  with  foreign  life,  that  goes  by  the  name  of 
Chinatown.  Sordid  and  foul  as  it  appears  by  day 
light,  there  was  a  charm  and  romance  to  it  under  the 
lantern-lights  that  softened  the  darkness.  Windows 
and  doors  were  illuminated.  Brown,  flat-nosed 
men  in  loose  clothing  gathered  in  groups  and  dis 
cussed  their  affairs  in  a  strange  singsong  tongue 
and  high-pitched  voices.  Here,  was  the  sound  of  the 
picking  of  the  Chinese  banjo-fiddle;  there,  we  heard 
a  cracked  voice  singing  a  melancholy  song  in  the 
confusion  of  minor  keys  that  may  pass  for  imisic 
among  the  brown  men ;  there,  again,  a  gong  with  tin- 
pan  accompaniment  assisted  to  reconcile  the  Chinese 
to  the  long  intervals  between  holidays.  Crowds  hur 
ried  along  the  streets,  loitered  at  corners,  gathered 
about  points  of  interest,  but  it  seemed  as  though 
it  was  all  one  man  repeated  over  and  over. 


IN   A    FOREIGN    LAND  193 

"Why,  they're  all  alike !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bowser. 
"How  do  they  ever  tell  each  other  apart?" 

"Oh,  that's  aisy  enough,  ma'am,"  replied  Corson 
writh  a  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "They  tie  a  knot  in  their 
pigtails,  and  that's  the  way  you  know  'em." 

"Laws!  you  don't  say!"  said  Mrs.  Bowser,  much 
impressed.  "I  never  could  tell  'em  that  way." 

"It  is  a  strange  resemblance,"  said  Mr.  Carter. 
"Don't  you  find  it  almost  impossible  to  distinguish 
between  them  ?" 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  sor,  no,"  said  Corson.  "It's 
a  trick  of  the  eye  with  you,  sor.  If  you  was  to  be 
here  with  'em  for  a  month  or  two  you'd  niver  think 
there  was  two  of  'em  alike.  There's  as  much  differ 
ence  betwixt  one  and  another  as  with  any  two  white 
men.  I  was  loike  you  at  first.  I  says  to  meself  that 
they're  as  like  as  two  pease.  But,  now,  look  at  those 
two  mugs  there  in  that  door.  They're  no  more  alike 
than  you  and  me,  as  Mr.  Wilton  here  can  tell  you, 


sor." 


The  difference  between  the  two  Chinese  failed  to 
impress  me,  but  I  was  mindful  of  my  reputation  as 
an  old  resident. 

"Oh,  yes;  a  very  marked  contrast,"  I  said 
promptly,  just  as  I  would  have  sworn  that  they 
were  twins  if  Corson  had  suggested  it. 

"Very  remarkable !"  said  Mr.  Carter  dubiously. 

In  and  out  we  wound  through  the  oriental  city — 
the  fairy-land  that  stretched  away,  gay  with  lanterns 
and  busy  with  strange  crowds,  changing  at  times 


194  BLINDFOLDED 

as  we  came  nearer  to  a  tawdry  reality,  cheap,  dirty, 
and  heavy  with  odors.  Here  was  a  shop  where 
ivory  in  delicate  carvings,  bronze  work  that  showed 
the  patient  handicraft  and  grotesque  fancy  of  the  ori 
ental  artist,  lay  side  by  side  with  porcelains,  fine  and 
coarse,  decorated  with  the  barbaric  taste  in  form 
and  color  that  rules  the  art  of  the  ancient  empire. 
Beyond,  were  carved  cabinets  of  ebony  and  sandal- 
wood,  rich  brocades  and  soft  silks  and  the  pro 
prietor  sang  the  praises  of  his  wares  and  reduced 
his  estimate  of  their  value  with  each  step  we  took 
toward  the  door.  Next  the  rich  shop  was  a  low 
den  from  whose  open  door  poured  fumes  of  tobacco 
and  opium,  and  in  whose  misty  depths  figures  of 
bloused  little  men  huddled  around  tables  and  swayed 
hither  and  thither.  The  click  of  dominoes,  the  rat 
tling  of  sticks  and  counters,  and  the  excited  cries 
of  men,  rose  from  the  throng. 

"They're  the  biggest  gamblers  the  Ould  Nick  iver 
had  to  his  hand,"  said  Corson;  "there  isn't  one  of 
'em  down  there  that  wouldn't  bet  the  coat  off  his 
back." 

"Dear  me,  how  dreadful !"  said  Mrs.  Bowser. 
"And  do  we  have  to  go  down  into  that  horrible  hole, 
and  how  can  we  ever  get  out  with  our  lives  ?" 

"We're  not  going  down  there,  ma'am,"  inter 
rupted  Corson  shortly. 

"And  where  next?"  asked  Luella. 

The  question  was  addressed  to  the  policeman,  not 
to  me.  Except  for  a  formal  greeting  when  we  had 


IN   A   FOREIGN    LAND  195 

met,  Luella  had  spoken  no  word  to  me  during  the 
evening. 

"Here's  the  biggest  joss-house  in  town,"  said 
Corson.  "We  might  as  well  see  it  now  as  any  time." 

"Oh,  do  let  us  see  those  delightfully  horrible 
idols,"  cried  Mrs.  Bowser.  "But,"  she  added,  with 
a  sudden  access  of  alarm  at  some  recollection  of  the 
reading  of  her  school-days,  "do  they  cut  people's 
hearts  out  before  the  wicked  things  right  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  city?" 

The  policeman  assured  her  that  the  appetite  of  the 
joss  for  gore  remained  unsatisfied,  and  led  the  \vay 
into  the  dimly-lighted  building  that  served  as  a 
temple. 

I  lingered  a  moment  by  the  door  to  see  that  all  my 
party  passed  in. 

"There's  Wainwright,"  whispered  Porter,  who 
closed  the  procession. 

"Where?"  I  asked,  a  dim  remembrance  of  the  mis 
sion  on  which  I  had  sent  him  in  pursuit  of  the  snake- 
eyed  man  giving  the  information  a  sinister  twist. 

Porter  gave  a  chirrup,  and  Wainwright  halted  at 
the  door. 

"He's  just  passed  up  the  alley  here,"  said  Wain 
wright  in  a  low  voice. 

"Who?  Terrill?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  Wainwright.  "I've  kept  him  in  sight 
all  the  evening." 

"Hasn't  he  seen  you?"  asked  Porter.  "I  spied  you 
as  soon  as  you  turned  the  corner." 


196  BLINDFOLDED 

"Don't  know,"  said  Wainwright;  "but  some 
thing's  up.  There  he  goes  now.  I  mustn't  miss  him." 
And  Wainwright  darted  off. 

I  looked  searchingly  in  the  direction  he  took,  but 
could  see  no  sign  of  the  snake-eyed  enemy, 

The  presence  of  Terrill  gave  me  some  tremors  of 
anxiety,  for  I  knew  that  his  unscrupulous  ferocity 
would  stop  at  nothing.  I  feared  for  the  moment  that 
some  violence  might  threaten  the  party,  and  that 
perhaps  Luella  was  in  danger.  Then  I  reflected 
that  the  presence  of  Doddridge  Knapp's  daughter 
was  a  protection  against  an  attack  from  Doddridge 
Knapp's  agents,  and  I  followed  the  party  into  the 
heathen  temple  without  further  apprehensions. 

The  temple  was  small,  and  even  in  the  dim,  re 
ligious  light  that  gave  an  air  of  mystery  to  the  ugly 
figure  of  the  god  and  the  trappings  of  the  place,  the 
whole  appeared  cheap — a  poor  representative  of  the 
majesty  of  a  religion  that  claims  the  devotion  of 
four  hundred  million  human  beings. 

"That's  one  of  the  richest  carvings  ever  brought 
into  this  country,"  said  Corson,  pointing  to  a  part 
of  the  altar  mounting.  "Tin  thousand  dollars 
wouldn't  touch  one  side  of  it." 

"You  don't  say!"  cried  Mrs.  Bowser,  while  the 
rest  murmured  in  the  effort  to  admire  the  work  of 
art.  "And  is  that  stuff  burning  for  a  disinfectant?" 

She  pointed  to  numerous  pieces  of  punk,  such  as 
serve  the  small  boy  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  that  were 
consuming  slowly  before  the  ugly  joss. 


IN   A   FOREIGN   LAND  197 

"No,  ma'am — not  but  they  needs  it  all  right 
enough,"  said  Corson,  "but  that's  the  haythen  way 
of  sayin'  your  prayers." 

This  information  was  so  astonishing  that  Corson 
was  allowed  to  finish  his  explanation  without  further 
remarks  from  Mrs.  Bowser. 

'Til  show  you  the  theater  next,"  said  he,  as  he 
led  the  way  out  of  the  temple  with  Mrs.  Bowser 
giving  her  views  of  the  picturesque  heathen  in  ques 
tions  that  Corson  found  no  break  in  the  conversa 
tion  long  enough  to  answer.  As  I  lingered  for  a  mo 
ment  in  some  depression  of  spirit,  waiting  for  the 
others  to  file  out,  a  voice  that  thrilled  me  spoke  in 
my  ear. 

"Our  guide  is  enjoying  a  great  favor."  It  wras  Lu- 
ella,  noticing  me  for  the  first  time  since  the  expedi 
tion  had  started. 

"'He  has  every  reason  to  be  delighted,"  I  returned, 
brightening  at  the  favor  I  was  enjoying. 

"Foreign  travel  is  said  to  be  of  great  value  in 
education,"  said  Luella,  taking  my  arm,  "but  it's 
certainly  stupid  at  times." 

I  suspected  that  Mr.  Carter  had  not  been  entirely 
successful  in  meeting  Miss  Knapp's  ideas  of  what  an 
escort  should  be. 

"I  didn't  suppose  you  could  find  anything  stupid," 
I  said. 

"I  am  intensely  interested,"  she  retorted,  "but  un 
fortunately  the  list  of  subjects  has  come  to  an  end." 

"You  might  have  begun  at  the  beginning  again." 


198  BLINDFOLDED 

"He  did,"  she  whispered,  "so  I  thought  it  time  he 
tried  the  guide  or  Aunt  Julia." 

"Thank  you,"  I  said. 

"Thank  him,  you  mean,"  she  said  gaily.  "Now 
don't  be  stupid  yourself,  so  please  change  the  sub 
ject.  Do  you  know,"  she  continued  without  giving 
me  time  to  speak,  "that  the  only  way  I  can  be  rec 
onciled  to  this  place  and  the  sights  we  have  seen 
is  to  imagine  I  am  in  Canton  or  Peking,  thousands 
of  miles  from  home?  Seen  there,  it  is  interesting, 
instructive,  natural — a  part  of  their  people.  As  a 
part  of  San  Francisco  it  is  only  vile." 

"Ugh!"  said  I,  as  a  whiff  from  an  underground 
den  floated  up  on  the  night  air,  and  Luella  caught 
her  handkerchief  to  her  face  to  get  her  breath.  "I'm 
not  sure  that  this  rose  would  smell  any  sweeter  by  the 
name  of  Canton." 

"I'm  afraid  your  argument  is  too  practical  for  me 
to  answer,"  she  laughed.  "Yet  I'm  certain  it  would 
be  more  poetic  seven  thousand  miles  away." 

"Come  this  way,"  said  Corson,  halting  with  the 
party  at  one  of  the  doors.  "I'll  show  you  through 
some  of  the  opium  dens,  and  that  will  bring  us  to  the 
stage  door  of  the  theater." 

"How  close  and  heavy  the  air  is !"  said  Luella,  as 
we  followed  the  winding  passage  in  the  dim  illumina 
tion  that  came  from  an  occasional  gas-jet  or  oil 
lamp. 

"The  yellow  man  is  a  firm  believer  in  the  motto, 
'Ventilation  is  the  root  of  all  evil,'  "  I  admitted. 


IN   A   FOREIGN   LAND  199 

The  fumes  of  tobacco  and  opium  were  heavy  on 
the  air,  and  a  moment  later  we  came  on  a  cluster 
of  small  rooms  or  dens,  fitted  with  couches  and 
bunks.  It  needed  no  description  to  make  the  purpose 
plain.  The  whole  process  of  intoxication  by  opium 
was  before  me,  from  the  heating  of  the  metal  pipe 
to  the  final  stupor  that  is  the  gift  and  end  of  the 
Black  Smoke.  Here,  was  a  coolie  mixing  the  drug ; 
there,  just  beyond  him,  was  another,  drawing  whiffs 
from  the  bubbling  narcotic  through  the  bamboo 
handle  of  his  pipe;  there,  still  beyond,  was  another, 
lying  back  unconscious,  half-clad,  repulsive,  a  very 
sorry  reality  indeed  to  the  gorgeous  dreams  that 
are  reputed  to  follow  in  the  train  of  the  seductive 
pipe. 

"Do  they  really  allow  them  to  smoke  that  dread 
ful  stuff?"  asked  Mrs.  Bowser  shrilly.  "Why,  I 
should  think  the  governor,  or  the  mayor,  or  you, 
Mr.  Policeman,  would  stop  the  awful  thing  right 
off.  Now,  why  don't  you?" 

"Oh,  it's  no  harm  to  the  haythen,"  said  Corson. 
"It's  death  and  destruction  to  the  white  man,  but  it's 
no  more  to  the  yellow  man  than  so  much  tobacco  and 
whiskey.  They'll  be  all  right  to-morrow.  We  niver^ 
touches  'em  unless  they  takes  the  whites  into  their 
dens.  Then  we  raids  'em.  But  there's  too  much  of 
it  goin'  on,  for  all  that." 

"This  is  depressing,"  said  Luella,  with  a  touch  on 
my  arm.  "Let's  go  on." 

"Turn  to  the  right  there/'  Corson  called  out,  as 


200  BLINDFOLDED 

we  led  the  way  while  he  was  explaining  to  Mr.  Car 
ter  the  method  of  smoking. 

"Let  us  get  where  there  is  some  air,"  said  Luella. 
"This  odor  is  sickening." 

We  hastened  on,  and,  turning  to  the  right,  soon 
came  on  two  passages.  One  led  up  a  stair,  hidden 
by  a  turn  after  half  a  dozen  steps.  The  other 
stretched  fifty  or  seventy-five  feet  before  us,  and  an 
oil  lamp  on  a  bracket  at  the  farther  end  gave  a 
smoky  light  to  the  passage  and  to  a  mean  little  court 
on  which  it  appeared  to  open. 

"We  had  better  wait  for  the  rest,"  said  Luella 
cautiously. 

As  she  spoke,  one  of  the  doors  toward  the  farther 
end  of  the  passage  swung  back,  and  a  tall  heavy 
figure  came  out.  My  heart  gave  a  great  bound,  and 
I  felt  without  realizing  it  at  the  moment,  that  Luella 
clutched  my  arm  fiercely. 

In  the  dim  light  the  figure  was  the  figure  of  the 
Wolf,  the  head  was  the  head  of  the  Wolf,  and 
though  no  light  shone  upon  it,  the  face  was  the  face 
of  the  Wolf,  livid,  distorted  with  anger,  fear  and 
brutal  passions. 

"Doddridge  Knapp!"  I  exclaimed,  and  gave  a 
step  forward. 

It  flashed  on  me  that  one  mystery  was  explained. 
I  had  found  out  why  the  Doddridge  Knapp  of  plot 
and  counterplot,  and  the  Doddridge  Knapp  who  was 
the  generous  and  confidential  employer,  could  dwell 
in  the  same  body.  The  King  of  the  Street  was  a 


IN   A   FOREIGN   LAND  201 

slave  of  the  Black  Smoke,  and,  like  many  another, 
went  mad  under  the  influence  of  the  subtle  drug. 

As  I  moved  forward,  Luella  clung  to  me  and  gave 
a  low  cry.  The  Wolf  figure  threw  one  malignant 
look  at  us  and  was  gone. 

"Take  me  home,  oh,  take  me  home!"  cried  Luella 
in  low  suppressed  tones,  trembling  and  half-falling. 
I  put  my  arm  about  her  to  support  her. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked. 

She  leaned  upon  me  for  one  moment,  and  the 
black  walls  and  gloomy  passage  became  a  palace 
filled  with  flowers.  Then  her  strength  and  resolution 
returned,  and  she  shook  herself  free. 

"Come;  let  us  go  back  to  the  others,"  she  said  a 
little  unsteadily.  "We  should  not  have  left  them." 

"Certainly,"  I  replied.  "They  ought  to  be  here  by 
this  time." 

But  as  we  turned,  a  sudden  cry  sounded  as  of  an 
order  given.  There  was  a  bang  of  wood  and  a  click 
of  metal,  and,  as  we  looked,  we  saw  that  unseen 
hands  had  closed  the  way  to  our  return.  A  barred 
and  iron-bound  door  was  locked  in  our  faces. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   BATTLE   IN    THE    MAZE 

For  an  instant  I  was  overwhelmed  with  terror  and 
self-reproach.  The  bolted  door  before  me  gave  notice 
of  danger  as  plainly  as  though  the  word  had  been 
painted  upon  its  front.  The  dark  and  lowering  walls 
of  the  passage  in  which  the  Wolf  figure  of  Dodd- 
ridge  Knapp  had  appeared  and  disappeared  whis 
pered  threats.  The  close  air  was  heavy  with  the 
suggestion  of  peril,  and  the  solitary  lamp  that  gave 
its  dim  light  from  the  end  of  the  passage  flashed  a 
smoky  warning.  And  I,  in  my  folly  and  carelessness, 
had  brought  Luella  Knapp  into  this  place  and  ex 
posed  her  to  the  dangers  that  encircled  me.  It  was 
this  thought  that,  for  the  moment,  unnerved  me. 

"What  does  this  mean  ?"  asked  Luella  in  a  matter- 
of-fact  tone. 

"It  is  a  poor  practical  joke,  I  fear,"  said  I  lightly. 
I  took  occasion  to  shift  a  revolver  to  my  overcoat 
pocket. 

"Well,  aren't  you  going  to  get  me  out  of  here?" 
she  asked  with  a  little  suggestion  of  impatience. 

"That  is  my  present  intention,"  I  replied,  beating 
a  tattoo  on  the  door. 

202 


THE  BATTLE  IN  THE  MAZE   203 

"You'll  hurt  your  fists/'  she  said.  "You  must 
find  some  way  besides  beating  it  down." 

"I'm  trying  to  bring  our  friends  here,"  said  I. 
"They  should  have  been  with  us  before  now." 

"Isn't  there  another  way  out?"  asked  Luella. 

"I  suspect  there  are  a  good  many  ways  out,"  I 
replied,  "but,  unfortunately,  I  don't  know  them." 
And  I  gave  a  few  resounding  kicks  on  the  door. 

"Where  does  this  stairway  go,  I  wonder?"  said 
Luella. 

"Into  the  celestial  regions,  I  suppose,"  I  ventured. 

Matters  were  in  too  serious  a  position  for  the  jest 
to  be  appreciated,  and  Luella  continued : 

"It  can't  be  the  way  out.   Isn't  there  another?" 

"We  might  try  the  passage." 

She  gave  a  shudder  and  shrank  toward  mCo 

"No,  no,"  she  cried  in  a  low  voice.  "Try  the  door 
again.  Somebody  must  hear  you,  and  it  may  be 
opened." 

I  followed  her  suggestion  with  a  rain  of  kicks, 
emphasized  with  a  shout  that  made  the  echoes  ring 
gloomily  in  the  passage. 

I  heard  in  reply  a  sound  of  voices,  and  then  an 
answering  shout,  and  the  steps  of  men  running. 

"Are  you  there,  Mr.  Wilton?"  cried  the  voice  of 
Corson  through  the  door. 

"Yes,  all  safe,"  I  answered. 

"Well,  just  hold  on  a  bit,  and  we'll—" 

The  rest  of  his  sentence  was  lost  in  a  suppressed 
scream  from  Luella.  I  turned  and  darted  before  her, 


204  BLINDFOLDED 

just  in  time  to  face  three  Chinese  ruffians  who  were 
hastening  down  the  passage.  The  nearest  of  the  trio, 
a  tall  dark  savage  with  a  deep  scar  across  his  cheek, 
was  just  reaching  out  his  hand  to  seize  Luella  when 
I  sprang  forward  and  planted  a  blow  square  upon 
his  chin.  He  fell  back  heavily,  lifted  almost  off  his 
feet  by  my  impact,  and  lay  like  a  log  on  the  floor. 

The  other  two  ruffians  halted  irresolute  for  an 
instant,  and  I  drew  my  revolver.  In  the  faint  light  of 
the  passage  I  could  scarcely  see  their  villainous  faces. 
The  countenance  of  the  coolie  is  not  expressive  at 
best,  but  I  could  feel,  rather  than  see,  the  stolid 
rascality  of  their  appearance.  Their  wish  seemed  to 
be  to  take  me  alive  if  possible.  After  a  moment  of 
hesitation  there  was  a  muttered  exclamation  and  one 
of  the  desperadoes  drew  his  hand  from  his  blouse. 

"Oh !"  cried  Luella.    "He's  got  a  knife !" 

Before  he  could  make  another  movement  I  fired 
once,  twice,  three  times.  There  was  a  scramble  and 
scuffle  in  the  passageway,  and  the  smoke  rolled  thick 
in  front,  blotting  out  the  scene  that  had  stood  in 
silhouette  before  us. 

Fearful  of  a  rush  from  the  Chinese,  I  threw  one 
arm  about  Luella,  and,  keeping  my  body  between  her 
and  possible  attack,  guided  her  to  the  stair  that  led 
upward  at  nearly  right  angles  from  the  passage. 
She  was  trembling  and  her  breath  came  short,  but 
her  spirit  had  not  quailed.  She  shook  herself  free  as 
I  placed  her  on  the  first  step. 

"Have  you  killed  them?"  she  asked  quietly. 


THE    BATTLE    IN    THE   MAZE      205 

"I  hope  so,"  I  replied,  looking  cautiously  around 
the  corner  to  see  the  results  of  my  fusillade.  The 
smoke  had  spread  into  a  thin  haze  through  the  pass 
age. 

"There's  one  fellow  there,"  I  said.  "But  it's  the 
one  I  knocked  down." 

"Can't  you  see  the  others?"  inquired  Luella. 

"No  more  in  sight,"  said  I,  after  a  bolder  survey. 
"They've  run  away." 

"Oh,  I'm  glad,"  said  Luella.  "I  should  have  seen 
them  always  if  you  had  killed  them." 

"I  shouldn't  have  minded  giving  them  something 
to  remember,"  said  I,  vexed  at  my  poor  display  of 
marksmanship,  but  feeling  an  innate  conviction  that 
I  must  have  hit  them. 

"What  on  earth  did  they  attack  us  for  ?"  exclaimed 
Luella  indignantly.  "We  hadn't  hurt  anything." 

Before  I  could  reply  to  Luella's  question,  a  tattoo 
was  beaten  upon  the  door  and  a  muffled  shout  came 
from  the  other  side.  I  stepped  down  from  the  stair 
to  listen. 

"Are  you  hurt?"  shouted  Corson.  "What's  the 
matter?" 

"No  damage,"  I  returned.   "I  drove  them  off." 

Corson  shouted  some  further  words,  but  they  were 
lost  in  a  sudden  murmur  of  voices  and  a  scuffle  of 
feet  that  arose  behind. 

"Look  out!"  cried  Luella  peremptorily.  "Come 
back  here!" 

I  have  said  that  the  passage  opened  into  a  little 


206  BLINDFOLDED 

court,  and  at  the  end  a  lamp  gave  light  to  the  court 
and  the  passage. 

As  I  turned  I  saw  a  confusion  of  men  pouring  into 
the  open  space  and  heading  for  the  passage.  They 
were  evidently  Chinese,  but  in  the  gleam  of  the 
lamp  I  was  sure  I  saw  the  evil  face  and  snake-eyes 
of  Tom  Terrill.  He  was  wrapped  in  the  Chinese 
blouse,  but  I  could  not  be  mistaken.  Then  with  a 
chorus  of  yells  there  was  the  crack  of  a  pistol,  and  a 
bullet  struck  the  door  close  to  my  ear. 

It  was  all  done  in  an  instant.  Before  the  sound 
of  the  shot  I  dropped,  and  then  made  a  leap  for  the 
stair. 

"Oh!"  cried  Luella  anxiously;  "were  you  hit?" 

"No,  I'm  all  right,"  I  said,  "but  it  was  a  close 
shave.  The  gang  means  mischief." 

"Go  up  the  stairs,  and  find  a  way  out  or  a  place  to 
hide,"  said  Luella  excitedly.  "Give  me  the  pistol. 
They  won't  hurt  me.  It's  you  they're  after.  Go, 


now." 


Her  tone  was  the  tone  of  the  true  daughter  of 
the  Wolf. 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Knapp.  I  have  a  pressing  en 
gagement  here  with  a  lady,  and  I  expect  to  meet 
Mr.  Corson  in  a  few  minutes." 

I  stooped  on  an  impulse  and  kissed  the  back  of  her 
gloved  hand,  and  murmured,  "I  couldn't  think  of 
leaving." 

"Well,  tell  me  something  I  can  do,"  she  said. 

I  gave  her  my  smaller  revolver. 


THE    BATTLE   IN   THE   MAZE     207 

"Hand  that  to  me  when  I  want  it,"  I  said.  "If  I'm 
killed,  get  up  the  stairs  and  defend  yourself  with  it. 
Don't  fire  unless  you  have  to.  We  are  short  of 
ammunition."  I  had  but  three  shots  in  the  large  six- 
shooter. 

"Are  they  coming?"  asked  Luella,  as  the  wild 
tumult  of  shouts  stilled  for  a  moment  and  a  single 
voice  could  be  heard. 

I  peered  cautiously  around  the  corner. 

"There's  a  gentleman  in  a  billycock  hat  who's 
rather  anxious  to  have  them  lead  the  way/'  I  said; 
"but  they  seem  to  prefer  listening  to  fighting." 

The  gentleman  whose  voice  was  for  war  I  dis 
covered  to  be  my  snake-eyed  friend.  He  seemed  to 
be  having  difficulty  with  the  language,  and  was  eking 
out  his  Pidgin-English  with  pantomime. 

"There!"  cried  Luella  with  a  start;  "what's  that?" 

A  heavy  blow  shook  the  walls  of  the  building  and 
sounded  through  the  passage. 

"Good !"  I  said.  "If  our  friends  yonder  are  going 
to  make  trouble  they  must  do  it  at  once.  Corson's 
got  an  ax,  and  the  door  will  be  down  first  they 
know." 

"Thank  Heaven!"  whispered  Luella.  And  then 
she  began  to  tremble. 

The  blows  followed  fast  upon  each  other,  but  sud 
denly  they  were  drowned  in  a  chorus  of  yells,  and 
a  volley  of  revolver  shots  sent  the  bullets  spatting 
against  the  door. 

"Look  out,  Miss  Knapp,"  I  said.   "They're  com- 


208  BLINDFOLDED 

ing.  Stand  close  behind  me,  and  crouch  down  if 
they  get  this  far." 

I  could  feel  her  straighten  and  brace  herself  once 
more  behind  me  as  I  bent  cautiously  around  the  cor 
ner. 

The  band  was  advancing  with  a  frightful  din,  but 
was  making  more  noise  than  speed.  Evidently  it 
had  little  heart  for  its  job. 

I  looked  into  the  yelling  mob  for  the  snake-eyed 
agent  of  Doddridge  Knapp,  but  could  not  single  him 
out. 

I  dared  wait  no  longer.  Aiming  at  the  foremost  I 
fired  twice  at  the  advancing  assailants.  There  were 
shouts  and  screams  of  pain  in  answer,  and  the  line 
hesitated.  I  gave  them  the  remaining  cartridge,  and, 
seizing  the  smaller  weapon  from  Luella,  fired  as 
rapidly  as  I  could  pull  the  trigger. 

The  effect  was  instantaneous.  With  a  succession 
of  howls  and  curses  the  band  broke  and  ran — all 
save  one  man,  who  leaped  swiftly  forward  with  a 
long  knife  in  his  hand. 

It  would  have  gone  hard  with  me  if  he  had  ever 
reached  me,  for  he  was  a  large  and  powerful  fellow, 
and  my  last  shot  was  gone.  But  in  the  dark  and 
smoky  passage  he  stumbled  over  the  prostrate  body 
of  the  first  desperado  whom  I  had  been  fortunate 
enough  to  knock  down,  and  fell  sprawling  at  full 
length  almost  at  my  feet. 

With  one  leap  I  was  on  his  back,  and  with  a  blow 
from  the  revolver  I  had  quieted  him,  wrenched  the 


THE  BATTLE  IN  THE  MAZE  209 

knife  from  his  hand,  and  had  the  point  resting*  on 
his  neck. 

Luella  gave  a  scream. 

"Oh!"  she  cried,  "are  you  hurt?" 

"No,"  I  said  lightly,  "but  I  don't  think  this  gentle 
man  is  feeling  very  well.  He':  likely  to  have  a  sore 
head  for  a  day  or  two." 

"Come  back  here,"  said  Luella  in  a  peremptory 
tone.  "Those  men  may  come  again  and  shoot  you." 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  I.  "The  door  is  coming 
down .  But,  anyhow,  I  can't  leave  our  friend  here. 
Lie  still!"  I  growled,  giving  the  captive  a  gentle 
prod  in  the  neck  with  the  point  of  his  knife  to  empha 
size  my  desire  to  have  peace  and  quiet  between  us. 

I  heard  him  swear  under  his  breath.  The  words 
were  foreign,  but  there  was  no  mistaking  the  senti 
ment  behind  them. 

"You  aren't  killing  him  are  you?"  inquired  Luella 
anxiously. 

"I  think  it  might  be  a  service  to  the  country,"  I 
confessed,  "but  I'll  save  him  for  the  hangman." 

"You  needn't  speak  so  regretfully,"  laughed 
Luella,  with  a  little  return  of  her  former  spirit. 
"But  here  our  people  come." 

The  ax  had  been  plied  steadily  on  the  stubborn 
planks  all  through  the  conflict  and  its  sequel.  But 
the  iron-bound  beams  and  heavy  lock  had  been  built 
to  resist  police  raids,  and  the  door  came  down  with 
difficulty. 

At  last  it  was  shaking  and  yielding,  and  almost 


210  BLINDFOLDED 

as  Luella  spoke  it  swayed,  bent  apart,  and  broke 
with  a  crash,  and  with  a  babel  of  shouts  Corson, 
Porter,  Barkhouse  and  Wainwright,  with  two  more 
policemen,  poured  through  the  opening.  • 

"Praise  the  powers,  you're  safe!"  cried  Corson, 
wringing  my  hand,  while  the  policemen  took  the 
,  prostrate  Chinese  in  charge.    "And  is  the  young  lady 
•  hurt?" 

1  "No  harm  done,"  said  Luella.  "Mr.  Wilton  is 
quite  a  general." 

"I  can't  think  what's  got  into  the  scoundrelly 
highbinders,"  said  Corson  apologetically.  "It's  the 
first  time  I  ever  knew  anything  of  the  kind  to  hap 
pen."  And  he  went  on  to  explain  that  while  the 
Chinese  desperado  is  a  devil  to  fight  among  his  own 
kind,  he  does  not  interfere  with  the  white  man. 

I  called  my  men  aside  and  spoke  sharply. 

"You  haven't  obeyed  orders,"  I  said.  "You,  Por 
ter,  and  you,  Barkhouse,  were  to  keep  close  by  me 
to-night.  You  didn't  do  it,  and  it's  only  by  good  luck 
that  the  young  lady  and  I  were  not  killed.  You, 
Wainwright,  were  to  follow  Tom  Terrill.  I  saw 
Terrill  just  now  in  a  gang  of  Chinese,  and  you  turn 
up  on  the  other  side  of  a  barred  door." 

Porter  and  Barkhouse  looked  sheepish  enough,  but 
Wainwright  protested : 

"I  was  following  Terrill  when  he  gets  into  a  gang 
of  highbinders,  and  goes  into  one  of  these  rooms 
over  here  a  ways.  I  waits  a  while  for  him,  and  then 
starts  to  look  around  a  bit,  and  first  I  knows,  I  runs 


THE    BATTLE    IN    THE    MAZE     211 

up  against  Porter  here  hunting  for  an  ax,  and  crazy 
as  a  loon,  saying  as  how  you  was  murdered,  and  they 
had  got  to  save  you/' 

"Well,  just  keep  close  to  me  for  the  rest  of  the 
night,  and  we'll  say  no  more  about  it.  There's  no 
great  damage  done — nothing  but  a  sore  knuckle." 
I  was  feeling  now  the  return  effects  of  my  blow  on 
the  coolie's  chin.  I  felt  too  much  in  fault  myself  to 
call  my  attendants  very  sharply  to  task.  It  was 
through  me  that  Luella  had  come  into  danger,  and 
I  had  to  confess  that  I  had  failed  in  prudence  and 
had  come  near  to  paying  dear  for  it. 

"I  don't  understand  this,  Mr.  Wilton,"  said  Cor- 
son  in  confidential  perplexity.  "I  don't  see  why  the 
haythen  were  after  yez." 

"I  saw— I  saw  Tom  Terrill,"  said  I,  stumbling 
over  the  name  of  Doddridge  Knapp.  I  determined 
to  keep  the  incident  of  his  appearance  to  myself. 

"I  don't  see  how  he  worked  it,"  said  Corson  with 
a  shake  of  the  head.  "They  don't  like  to  stand 
against  a  white  man.  It's  a  quare  tale  he  must  have 
told  'em,  and  a  big  sack  he  must  have  promised  'em 
to  bring  'em  down  on  ye.  Was  it  for  killin'  ye  they 
was  tryin',  or  was  they  for  catchin'  yez  alive?" 

"They  were  trying  to  take  us  alive  at  first,  I 
think,  but  the  bullets  whistled  rather  close  for  com 
fort." 

"I  was  a  little  shaky  myself,  when  they  plunked 
against  the  door,"  said  Corson  with  a  smile. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Wilton,"  said  Mrs.  Bowser,  "it  was 


212  BLINDFOLDED 

awful  of  you — for  it  was  so  frightfully  improper  to 
get  behind  that  locked  door,  to  say  nothing  of  throw 
ing  us  all  into  conniptions  with  firing  guns,  and  call 
ing  for  axes,  and  highbinders,  and  police,  and 
Heaven  knows  what  all — and  what  are  highbinders, 
Mr.  Wilton  ?  And  it's  a  blessing  we  have  our  dear 
f  Luella  safe  with  us  again.  I  was  near  fainting  all 
the  time,  and  it's  a  mercy  I  had  a  smelling  bottle." 

"Dear  Luella"  looked  distressed,  and  while  Cor- 
son  was  attempting  to  explain  to  Mrs.  Bowser  the 
nature  of  the  blackmailing  bands  of  the  Chinese 
criminal  element,  Luella  said : 

"Please  get  us  out  of  this.    I  can't  stand  it." 

I  had  marveled  at  her  calm  amid  the  excited  talk 
of  those  about  her,  but  I  saw  now  that  it  was  forced 
by  an  effort  of  her  will.  She  was  sadly  shaken. 

"Take  my  arm,"  I  said.  "Mr.  Corson  will  lead 
the  way."  1  signed  to  Porter  to  go  ahead  and  to 
Barkhouse  and  Wainwright  to  follow  me.  "It's 
very  close  here." 

"It's  very  ridiculous  of  me,"  said  Luella,  with  an 
hysterical  laugh,  "but  I'm  a  little  upset." 

"I  dare  say  you're  not  used  to  it,"  I  suggested 
dryly. 

Luella  gave  me  a  quick  glance. 

"No,  are  you  ?  It's  not  customary  in  our  family," 
she  said  with  an  attempt  at  gaiety. 

I  thought  of  the  wolf-figure  who  had  come  out 
of  the  opium-den,  and  the  face  framed  in  the  lantern- 
flash  of  the  alley,  and  was  silent.  Perhaps  the 


THE  BATTLE  IN  THE  MAZE  213 

thought  of  the  scene  of  the  passage  had  come  to  her, 
too,  for  she  shuddered  and  quickened  her  step  as 
though  to  escape. 

"Do  you  want  to  go  through  the  theater?"  asked 
Corson. 

"No — no,"  whispered  Luella,  "get  me  home  at 


once." 


"We  have  seen  enough  sights  for  the  evening,  I 
believe,"  said  I. 

Mrs.  Bowser  was  volubly  regretful,  but  declined 
Corson's  offer  to  chaperon  her  through  a  night  of 
it. 

On  the  way  home  Luella  spoke  not  a  word,  but 
Mrs.  Bowser  filled  the  time  with  a  detailed  account 
of  her  emotions  and  sensations  while  Corson  and  his 
men  were  searching  for  us  and  beating  down  the 
door.  And  her  tale  was  still  growing  when  the  car 
riage  pulled  up  before  the  bronze  lions  that  guarded 
the  house  of  the  Wolf,  and  I  handed  the  ladies  up 
the  steps. 

At  the  door  Luella  held  out  her  hand  impulsively. 

"I  wish  I  knew  whom  to  thank — but  I  do  thank 
him — for  my  safety — perhaps  for  my  life.  Believe 
me — I  am  grateful  to  a  brave  man." 

I  felt  the  warm  clasp  of  her  fingers  for  a  moment, 
and  then  with  a  flash  of  her  eyes  that  set  my  blood 
on  fire  she  was  gone,  and  I  was  staggering  down 
Doddridge  Knapp's  steps  in  a  tumult  of  emotions 
that  turned  the  dark  city  into  the  jeweled  palaces  of 
the  genii  peopled  with  angels. 


214  BLINDFOLDED 

But  there  was  a  bitter  in  the  sweet.  "I  wish  I 
knew  whom  to  thank."  The  bitter  grew  a  little  more 
perceptible  as  her  phrases  stamped  themselves  on  my 
brain.  I  blessed  and  cursed  at  once  the  day  that  had 
brought  me  to  her. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

rA  DEAL  IN  STOCKS 

The  wolf- face,  seamed  with  hatred  and  anger,  and 
hideous  with  evil  passions,  that  had  glowered  for  a 
moment  out  of  the  smoky  frame  of  the  Chinese 
den,  was  still  haunting  me  as  I  forced  myself  once 
more  to  return  to  the  office.  Wednesday  morning 
had  come,  and  I  was  due  to  meet  Doddridge  Knapp. 
But  as  I  unlocked  the  door,  I  took  some  comfort  in 
the  reflection  that  I  could  hardly  be  more  unwilling 
to  meet  the  Wolf  than  he  must  be  to  meet  me. 

I  had  scarcely  settled  myself  in  my  chair  when  I 
heard  the  key  turn  in  the  lock.  The  door  swung 
open,  and  in  walked  Doddridge  Knapp. 

I  had  thought  to  find  at  least  some  trace  of  the 
opium  debauch  through  which  I  had  gained  the 
clue  to  his  strange  and  contradictory  acts — some 
mark  of  the  evil  passions  that  had  written  their 
story  upon  his  face  at  the  meeting  in  the  passage. 
But  the  face  before  me  was  a  mask  that  showed  no 
sign  of  the  experiences  through  which  he  had  passed. 
For  all  that  appeared,  he  might  have  employed  the 
time  since  I  had  left  here  two  days  before  in  study 
ing  philosophy  and  cultivating  peace  and  good-will 
with  his  neighbors. 

215 


216  BLINDFOLDED 

"Ah,  Wilton/'  he  said  affably,  rubbing  his  hands 
with  a  purring  growl.  "You're  ready  for  a  hard 
day's  work,  I  hope." 

"Nothing  would  please  me  better,"  I  said  cheer 
fully,  my  repugnance  melting  away  with  the  mag 
netism  of  his  presence.  "Is  the  black  flag  up  to 
day?" 

He  looked  at  me  in  surprise  for  an  instant  and 
then  growled,  still  in  good  humor : 

"  'No  quarter'  is  the  motto  to-day."  And  I  lis 
tened  closely  as  the  King  of  the  Street  gave  his  or 
ders  for  the  morning. 

I  marveled  at  the  openness  and  confidence  with 
which  he  seemed  to  treat  me.  There  was  no  trace 
nor  suggestion  in  his  demeanor  to-day  of  the  man 
who  sought  my  life  by  night.  And  I  shuddered  at 
the  power  of  the  Black  Smoke  to  change  the  nature 
of  this  man  to  that  of  a  demon.  He  trusted  me 
with  secrets  of  his  campaign  that  were  worth  mil 
lions  to  the  market. 

"You  understand  now,"  he  said  at  the  end  of  his 
orders,  "that  you  are  to  sell  all  the  Crown  Diamond 
that  the  market  will  take,  and  buy  all  the  Omega 
that  you  can  get  below  one  hundred." 

"I  understand." 

"We'll  feed  Decker  about  as  big  a  dose  as  he  can 
swallow,  I  reckon,"  said  the  King  of  the  Street 
grimly. 

"One  thing,"  I  said,  "I'd  like  to  know  if  I'm  the 
only  one  operating  for  you," 


A  DEAL   IN   STOCKS  217 

The  King  of  the  Street  drew  his  bushy  brows 
down  over  his  eyes  and  scowled  at  me  a  moment. 

"You're  the  only  one  in  the  big  Board,"  he  said 
at  last.  "There  are  men  in  the  other  Boards,  you 
understand." 

I  thought  I  understood,  and  sallied  forth  for  the 
battle.  At  Doddridge  Knapp's  suggestion  I  ar 
ranged  to  do  my  business  through  three  brokers,  and 
added  Lattimer  and  Hobart  to  Wallbridge,  and 
Bockstein  and  Eppner. 

Bockstein  greeted  me  affably : 

"Velgome  to  de  marget  vonce  more,  Mr.  — , 
Mr.  — " 

"Wilton,"  said  Eppner,  assisting  his  partner  in 
his  high,  dry  voice,  with  cold  civility.  His  blue- 
black  eyes  regarded  me  as  but  a  necessary  part  of  the 
machinery  of  commerce. 

I  gave  my  orders  briefly. 

"Dot  is  a  larch  order,"  said  Bockstein  dubiously. 

"You  don't  have  to  take  it,"  I  was  about  to  retort, 
when  Eppner's  high-pitched  voice  interrupted : 

"It's  all  right.    The  customary  margin  is  enough." 

Wallbridge  was  more  enthusiastic. 

"You've  come  just  in  the  nick  of  time,"  said  the 
stout  little  man,  swabbing  his  bald  head  from  force 
of  habit,  though  the  morning  was  chill.  "The  mar 
ket  has  been  drier  than  a  fish-horn  and  duller  than 
a  foggy  morning.  You  saved  me  from  a  trip  to  Los 
Angeles.  I  should  have  been  carried  off  by  my  wife 
in  another  day." 


218  BLINDFOLDED 

"You  have  got  Gradgrind's  idea  of  a  holiday,"  I 
laughed. 

"Gradgrind,  Gradgrind?"  said  the  little  man  re 
flectively.  "Don't  know  him.  He's  not  in  the  mar 
ket,  I  reckon.  Oh,  I'm  death  on  holidays!  I  come 
near  dying  every  day  the  Board  doesn't  meet.  When 
it  shut  up  shop  after  the  Bank  of  California  went  to 
the  wall,  I  was  just  getting  ready  to  blow  my  brains 
out  for  want  of  exercise,  when  they  posted  the  notice 
that  it  was  to  open  again." 

I  laughed  at  the  stout  broker's  earnestness,  and 
told  him  what  I  wanted  done. 

"Whew!"  he  exclaimed,  "you're  in  business  this 
time,  sure.  Well,  this  is  just  in  my  line." 

Lattimer  and  Hobart,  after  a  polite  explanation 
of  their  rules  in  regard  to  margins,  and  getting  a 
certified  check,  became  obsequiously  anxious  to  do 
my  bidding. 

I  distributed  the  business  with  such  judgment  that 
I  felt  pretty  sure  our  plans  could  not  in  any  way  be 
exposed,  and  took  my  place  at  the  rail  in  the  Board 
room. 

The  opening  proceedings  were  comparatively 
tame.  I  detected  a  sad  falling-off  in  the  quality  and 
quantity  of  lung  power  and  muscular  activity  among 
the  buyers  and  sellers  in  the  pit. 

At  the  call  of  Confidence,  Lattimer  and  Hobart  be 
gan  feeding  shares  to  the  market.  Confidence 
dropped  five  points  in  half  a  minute,  "and  the  pit  be 
gan  to  wake  up. 


A   DEAL    IN    STOCKS  219 

There  was  a  roar  and  a  growl  that  showed  me 
the  animals  were  still  alive. 

The  Decker  forces  were  taken  by  surprise,  but 
with  a  hasty  consultation  came  gallantly  to  the  rescue 
of  their  stock.  At  the  close  of  the  call  they  had 
forced  it  back  and  one  point  higher  than  at  the 
opening. 

This,  however,  was  but  a  skirmish  of  outposts. 
The  fighting  began  at  the  call  of  Crown  Diamond. 

It  opened  at  sixty-three.  The  first  bid  was  hardly 
made  when  with  a  bellow  Wallbridge  charged  on 
Decker's  broker,  filled  his  bid,  and  offered  a  thousand 
shares  at  sixty-two. 

There  was  an  answering  roar  from  a  hundred 
throats  and  a  mob  rushed  on  Wallbridge  with  the 
apparent  intent  of  tearing  him  limb  from  limb. 
Wallbridge' s  offer  was  snapped  up  at  once,  but  a 
few  weak-kneed  holders  of  the  stock  threw  small 
blocks  on  the  market. 

These  were  taken  up  at  once,  and  Decker's  brokers 
were  bidding  sixty-five. 

At  this  Eppner  gave  a  blast  like  a  cornet,  and, 
waving  his  arms  frantically,  plunged  into  a  small- 
sized  riot.  I  had  entrusted  him  with  five  thousand 
shares  of  Crown  Diamond  to  be  sold  for  the  best 
price  possible,  and  he  was  feeding  the  opposition 
judiciously.  The  price  wavered  for  a  moment,  but 
rallied  and  reached  sixty-six. 

At  this  I  signaled  to  Wallbridge,  and  with  another 
bellow  he  started  an  opposition  riot  on  the  other  side 


220  BLINDFOLDED 

of  the  room  from  Eppner,  and  fed  Crown  Diamond 
in  lumps  to  the  howling  forces  of  the  Decker  com 
bination. 

The  battle  was  raging  furiously. 

I  had  no  wish  to  break  the  price  of  the  stock.  I 
was  intent  only  at  selling  shares  at  a  good  price,  but 
I  had  convinced  the  Decker  forces  that  there  was  a 
raid  on  the  stock,  and  they  had  rallied  to  protect  it  at 
whatever  cost. 

The  price  see-sawed  between  sixty-six  and  sixty- 
five,  and  amid  a  tumult  of  yells  and  shouts  I  sold 
twelve  thousand  shares.  At  last  they  were  gone, 
but  the  offers  still  continued. 

Outsiders  had  become  scared  at  the  persistent  sell 
ing,  and  were  trying  to  realize  before  a  break  should 
come,  and  in  spite  of  Decker's  efforts  the  price  ran 
down  to  sixty. 

There  was  a  final  rally  of  the  Decker  forces,  and 
the  call  closed  with  Crown  Diamond  at  sixty-three. 

I  was  pleased  at  the  result.  Doddridge  Knapp 
had  intrusted  me  with  the  shares  with  the  remark, 
"I  paid  fifty  for  'em  and  they're  not  worth  a  tinker's 
dam.  I  got  an  inside  look  at  the  mine  when  I  was 
in  Virginia  City.  Feed  Decker  all  he'll  take  at  sixty. 
He's  been  fooled  on  the  thing,  and  I  reckon  he'll  buy 
a  good  lot  of  them  at  that." 

I  had  sold  Doddridge  Knapp's  entire  lot  of  the 
stock  at  an  average  of  over  sixty-five,  had  netted 
him  a  profit  of  fifteen  dollars  a  share,  and  had,  for  a 
second  purpose,  served  the  plan  of  campaign  by 


A   DEAL    IN    STOCKS  221 

drawing  the  enemy's  resources  to  the  defense  of 
Crown  Diamond  and  weakening,  by  so  much,  his 
power  of  operating  elsewhere. 

By  the  time  Omega  was  reached  I  had  the  plans 
fully  in  hand. 

The  assault  on  Crown  Diamond  had  caused  a 
nervous  feeling  all  along  the  line,  and  under  rumors 
of  a  bear  raid  there  had  been  a  drop  of  several 
points. 

Omega  felt  the  results  of  the  nervousness  and  de 
pression,  and  opened  at  seventy-five. 

There  was  a  moment's  buzz — the  quiet  of  a  crowd 
expectant  of  great  events.  Then  Wallbridge  charged 
into  the  throng  with  a  roar.  I  could  not  distinguish 
his  words,  but  I  knew  that  he  was  carrying  out  my 
order  to  drop  five  thousand  shares  on  the  market. 

At  his  cry  there  was  an  answering  roar,  and  the 
scene  upon  the  floor  turned  to  a  riot.  Men  rushed 
hither  and  thither,  screaming,  shouting,  waving  their 
arms,  pushing,  jostling,  tearing  each  other  to  get 
into  the  midst  of  the  throng,  whirling  about,  mob 
bing  first  one  and  then  another  of  the  leather-lunged 
leaders  who  furnished  at  each  moment  fresh  centers 
for  the  outbreak  of  disorder.  How  the  market  was 
going,  I  could  only  guess.  At  Wallbridge's  onset  I 
saw  Lattimer  and  Eppner  make  a  dive  for  him  and 
then  separate,  following  other  shouting,  screaming 
madmen  who  pirouetted  about  the  floor  and  tried  to 
save  themselves  from  a  mobbing.  I  heard  seventy 
shouted  from  one  direction,  but  could  not  make  out 


222  BLINDFOLDED 

whether  it  set  the  price  of  the  stock  or  not.-  The  din 
was  too  confusing  for  me  to  follow  the  course  of 
events. 

At  last  Wallbridge  staggered  up  to  the  rail, 
flushed,  collarless  and  panting  for  breath,  with  his 
hat  a  hopeless  wreck. 

"We've  done  it !"  he  gasped  in  my  ear.  "The  dogs 
)of  war  are  making  the  fur  fly  down  here,  you  bet! 
Don't  you  wish  you  was  in  it?" 

"No,  I  don't!"  I  shouted  decidedly.  "How  does 
it  go?" 

"I  sold  down  to  seventy-one — average  seventy- 
three,  I  guess — and  she's  piling  in  fit  to  break  the 
floor." 

"Did  Lattimer  and  Eppner  get  your  stock?"  I 
could  not  help  asking. 

"They  got  about  three  thousand  of  it.  Rosen- 
heim  got  the  rest." 

I  remembered  Rosenheim  as  the  agent  of  Decker, 
and  sighed.  But  Lattimer  and  Eppner  were  busy, 
and  I  had  hopes. 

"Where  is  it  now  ?"  I  asked. 

"Sixty-nine  and  a  half." 

I  meditated  an  instant  whether  to  use  my  authority 
to  throw  another  five  thousand  shares  on  the  market. 
But  I  caught  sight  of  Decker  opposite,  pale,  hawk 
like,  just  seizing  an  envelope  from  a  messenger.  He 
tore  it  open,  and  though  his  face  changed  not  a  line, 
I  felt  by  a  mysterious  instinct  that  it  brought  assur 
ance  of  the  aid  he  sought. 


A  DEAL   IN    STOCKS  223 

"Buy  every  share  you  can  get,"  I  said  promptly. 
"Don't  get  in  the  way  of  Lattimer  or  Eppner.  Put 
on  steam,  too." 

"Two-forty  on  a  turnpike  road,"  said  Wallbridge. 
And,  refreshed  by  a  minute  of  rest,  he  gave  a  pro 
longed  bellow  and  charged  frantically  for  a  stout 
man  in  a  white  waistcoat  who  was  doing  the  maniac 
dance  across  the  hall. 

A  moment  later  the  clamor  grew  louder  and  the 
excitement  increased.  I  heard  shouts  of  seventy-five, 
seventy-eight,  eighty  and  eighty-five.  Decker's  men 
had  entered  into  the  bidding  with  energy.  The 
sinews  of  war  had  been  recruited,  and  it  was  a  battle 
for  the  possession  of  every  block  of  stock. 

Thus  far  I  had  followed  closely  the  plan  laid  down 
for  me  by  Doddridge  Knapp,  and  the  course  of  the 
market  had  agreed  with  the  outlines  of  his  prophecy. 
But  now  it  was  going  up  faster  than  he  had  expected. 
Yet  I  could  do  nothing  but  buy.  I  dared  not  set 
bounds  to  the  bidding.  I  dared  not  stop  for  an  in 
stant  to  hear  how  the  account  of  purchases  stood,  for 
it  might  allow  Decker  to  get  the  stock  that  my  em 
ployer  would  need  to  give  him  the  control  of  the 
mine.  I  could  only  grip  the  railing  and  wait  for  the 
end  of  the  call. 

At  last  it  came,  and  "Omega,  one  hundred  and  five 
and  three-quarters"  was  the  closing  quotation.  I 
feverishly  took  the  totals  of  my  purchases  from  the 
brokers,  and  gave  the  checks  to  bind  them.  Then  I 
hastily  made  my  way  through  the  excited  throngs 


224  BLINDFOLDED 

that  blocked  the  entrance  to  the  Exchange,  brought 
thither  by  the  exciting  news  of  "a  boom  in  Omega," 
and  hurried  to  the  office. 

Doddridge  Knapp  had  not  yet  come,  and  I  con 
sumed  myself  with  impatience  for  ten  minutes  till  I 
heard  his  key  in  the  lock  and  he  entered  with  a 
calm  smile  on  his  face. 

"What  luck,  Wilton?"  was  his  greeting.  The 
King  of  the  Street,  whose  millions  had  been  staked 
in  the  game,  was  less  excited  than  I  who  risked 
nothing. 

I  gave  him  my  memoranda,  and  tried  to  read  his 
face  as  he  studied  them. 

"You  did  a  good  job  with  Crown  Diamond,"  he 
grunted  approvingly. 

"Thanks,"  I  returned.  "I  thought  it  wasn't  bad 
for  a  stock  that  was  not  worth  mentioning." 

"Um,  yes.  Decker  can  light  his  cigars  with  it 
next  month." 

"A  million  dollars'  worth  of  cigar-lighters  might, 
be  called  a  piece  of  extravagance,"  I  murmured. 

"You'll  think  so  if  you  ever  buy  'em,  Wilton," 
growled  the  King  of  the  Street  feelingly.  "And  here 
is  seven  thousand  six  hundred  shares  of  Omega 
bought  and  five  thousand  sold.  That  scheme  worked 
pretty  well.  We  made  twenty-six  hundred  by  it. 
Um — the  price  went  up  pretty  fast." 

The  King  of  the  Street  looked  sourly  at  the  figures 
before  him.  "You  ought  to  have  got  more  stock," 
he  growled. 


A   DEAL    IN    STOCKS  225 

This  was  a  shock  to  my  self-congratulation  over 
my  success,  and  I  gave  an  inquiring  "Yes  ?" 

"As  I  figure  it  out,"  he  said,  "somebody  else  got 
seven  thousand  shares  and  odd.  There  were  over 
fifteen  thousand  shares  sold  in  your  Board." 

I  murmured  that  I  had  done  my  best. 

"Yes,  yes ;  I  suppose  so,"  said  my  employer.  "But 
we  need  more." 

"How  much?"  I  asked. 

"I've  got  a  little  over  forty-eight  thousand  shares," 
he  said  slowly,  "and  I  must  have  near  sixty  thous 
and.  It  looks  as  though  I'd  have  to  fight  for  them." 

"Which  will  cost  you  about  a  million  and  a  half 
at  present  rates,"  I  returned. 

"I'll  give  you  a  million  commission,  Wilton,  if 
you'll  get  them  for  that." 

The  King  of  the  Street  plainly  did  not  underrate 
the  task  he  had  set. 

"Well,  Decker  isn't  any  better  off  than  you,"  I 
said  consolingly. 

"He's  ten  or  fifteen  thousand  shares  worse  off  than 
I  am." 

"And  he's  put  a  fortune  into  Crown  Diamond, 
and  is  pretty  well  loaded  with  Confidence." 

"True,  my  boy." 

"And  so,"  I  argued,  "he  must  be  nearer  the  bot 
tom  of  his  sack  than  you  are." 

"Very  good,  Wilton,"  said  the  King  of  the  Street 
with  a  quizzical  look.  "But  you've  left  one  thing 
out.  You  don't  happen  to  know  that  the  directors 


226  BLINDFOLDED 

of  the  El  Dorado  Bank  had  a  secret  meeting  last 
night  and  decided  to  back  Decker  for  all  they  are 
worth." 

"Rather  a  rash  proceeding,"  I  suggested. 

"Well,  he  had  three  millions  of  their  money  in  his 
scheme,  so  I  reckon  they  thought  the  tail  might  as 
well  follow  the  hide,"  explained  my  employer. 

"The  only  thing  to  do  then  is  to  get  a  bank  your 
self,"  I  returned. 

Doddridge  Knapp's  lips  closed,  and  a  trace  of  a 
frown  was  on  his  brows. 

"Well,  this  isn't  business,"  he  said.  "Now  here 
is  what  I  want,"  he  continued.  And  he  gave  direc 
tions  for  the  buying  at  the  afternoon  session. 

"Now,  not  over  one  hundred  and  twenty-five," 
was  his  parting  injunction.  "You  may  not  get 
much — I  don't  think  you  will — though  I  have  a 
scheme  that  may  bring  a  reaction." 

Doddridge  Knapp's  scheme  for  a  reaction  must 
have  been  one  of  the  kind  that  goes  off  backward, 
for  Omega  jumped  skyward  on  the  afternoon  call, 
and  closed  at  one  hundred  and  thirty.  Rumors  were 
flying  fast  that  a  big  bonanza,  "bigger  than  the  Con 
solidated  Virginia,"  had  been  discovered  on  the  six- 
hundred-foot  level,  and  the  great  public  was  rush 
ing  to  Pine  Street  to  throw  its  dollars  into  the  blind 
pool  against  Knapp,  Decker  and  the  El  Dorado 
bank.  And  I  had  been  able  to  get  a  scant  one  thou 
sand  five  hundred  shares  when  the  call  was  over. 

"I  did  better  than  you,"  said  Doddridge  Knapp, 


A    DEAL    IN    STOCKS  227 

when  I  explained  to  him  the  course  of  the  session. 
"I  found  a  nest  of  two  thousand  five  hundred,  and 
gathered  them  in  at  one  hundred  and  twenty.  But 
that's  all  right.  You've  done  well  enough — as  well 
as  I  expected." 

"And  still  eight  thousand  to  get/'  I  said. 

"Nearly." 

"Well,  we'll  get  them  in  due  time,  I  suppose,"  I 
said  cheerfully. 

"We'll  have  'em  by  Monday  noon,  or  we  won't 
have  'em  at  all,"  growled  Doddridge  Knapp. 

"How  is  that?" 

"You  seem  to  have  forgotten,  young  man,  that  the 
stock  transfer  books  of  the  Omega  Company  close 
on  Monday  at  two  o'clock." 

As  I  had  never  heard  this  interesting  piece  of  in 
formation  before,  I  could  not  in  strictness  be  said  to 
have  forgotten  it. 

"Well,  we  ought  to  have  the  stock  by  that  time," 
I  said  consolingly. 

"We  ought,"  said  the  King  of  the  Street  grimly, 
pausing  in  the  doorway,  "but  things  don't  always 
happen  as  they  ought." 

As  I  remembered  that  if  things  had  happened  as 
they  ought  Doddridge  Knapp  would  be  in  jail,  I  gave 
a  hearty  assent  to  the  proposition  as  the  door  closed 
behind  my  retreating  employer. 


CHAPTER  XX 

MAKING    PROGRESS 

"You  really  don't  mean  it,"  said  Luella  severely, 
"and  it's  very  wrong  to  say  what  you  don't  mean." 

"In  society?"  I  asked  blandly.  "I'm  afraid  you're 
a  heretic,  L Miss  Knapp." 

I  blushed  as  I  stumbled  over  her  name.  She  was 
Luella  to  me  by  night  and  day,  but  I  did  not  con 
sider  myself  on  a  footing  to  use  so  thrilling  a  word 
in  her  presence. 

"Don't  be  rude,"  she  said.  "Everything  has  its 
place  in  society." 

"Even  prevarication,"  I  assented. 

"Even  a  polite  consideration  for  the  feelings  of 
others,"  corrected  Luella. 

"Then  you  might  have  some  consideration  for 
mine,"  I  said  in  an  injured  tone. 

"But  we're  not  in  society, — not  just  now,  that  is 
to  say.  We're  just  friends  talking  together,  and 
you're  not  to  say  what  you  don't  mean  just  for  the 
sake  of  pleasing  my  vanity." 

"Well,  if  we're  just  friends  talking  together — " 
said  I,  looking  up  in  her  face.  I  was  seated  on  the 
footstool  before  her,  and  it  was  very  entertaining  to 
look  at  her  face,  so  I  stopped  at  that. 

228 


MAKING   PROGRESS  229 

"Yes,"  said  Luella,  bending  forward  in  her  inter 
est. 

"It  was  the  bravest  and  truest  and  most  womanly 
girl  I  ever  knew  or  heard  of.  It's  the  kind  a  man 
would  be  glad  to  die  for." 

I  really  couldn't  help  it.  Her  hand  lay  very  tempt 
ingly  near  me,  and  I  don't  think  I  knew  what  I  was 
doing  till  she  said : 

"Please  let  go  of  my  hand." 

"But  he'd  rather  live  for  her,"  I  continued  boldly. 

"If  you  don't  behave  yourself,  I'll  surrender  you 
to  Aunt  Julia,"  said  Luella,  rising  abruptly  and 
slipping  to  the  curtains  of  the  alcove  in  which  we 
were  sitting.  She  looked  very  graceful  and  charm 
ing  as  she  stood  there  with  one  hand  raised  to  the 
lace  folds. 

"Has  she  recovered  ?"  I  asked. 

"What  a  melancholy  tone !  The  poor  dear  was  in 
bed  all  Tuesday,  but  she  took  advantage  of  her  rest 
to  amplify  her  emotions." 

"She  has  acquired  a  subject  of  conversation,  at 
least." 

"To  last  her  for  the  rest  of  her  life,"  laughed 
Luella,  turning  back.  "  'Twill  be  a  blood-curdling 
tale  by  the  time  she  reaches  the  East  once  more. 
And  now  do  be  sensible — no,  you  sit  right  where  you 
are — and  tell  me  how  it  all  happened,  and  what  it  was 
about." 

I  revolved  for  a  moment  the  plan  of  a  romance 
that  would  have,  at  least,  the  merit  of  chaining 


230  BLINDFOLDED 

Miss  Knapp's  interest.  But  it  was  gone  as  I  looked 
into  her  serious  eyes. 

"That's  what  I  should  like  to  know  myself,"  I 
confessed  candidly.  Then  I  added  with  pardonable 
mendacity:  "I  think  I  must  have  been  taken  for 
somebody  else,  if  it  was  anything  more  than  a 
desperate  freak  of  the  highbinders." 

"Are  you  sure  they  had  no  interest  in  seeking 
you?"  asked  Luella  gravely,  with  a  charming  tremor 
in  her  voice. 

Before  I  could  reply,  Mrs.  Knapp's  voice  was  in 
my  ear,  and  Mrs.  Knapp's  figure  was  in  the  arch 
way  of  the  alcove. 

"Oh,  you  are  here,"  she  said.  "I  thought  I  heard 
your  voices.  Luella,  your  father  wants  to  see  you  a 
minute.  And  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Wilton  ?" 

I  greeted  Mrs.  Knapp  cordially,  though  I  wished 
that  she  had  delayed  her  appearance,  and  looked  re 
gretfully  after  Luella. 

"I  want  to  thank  you  for  your  heroism  the  other 
evening,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  it  was  nothing,"  I  answered  lightly.  "Any 
one  would  have  done  the  same." 

"Perhaps — but  none  the  less  we  are  all  very  grate 
ful.  If  I  had  only  suspected  that  anything  of  the 
kind  could  have  happened,  I  should  never  have  al 
lowed  them  to  go." 

I  felt  rebelliously  glad  that  she  had  not  suspected. 

"I  blame  myself  for  it  all,"  I  bowed.  "It  was 
very  careless  of  me." 


MAKING   PROGRESS  231 

"I'm  afraid  so,  after  all  the  warning  you  have 
had,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp. 

"But  as  it  turned  out,  no  harm  was  done,"  I  said 
cheerfully. 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp  absently.  Then 
she  spoke  with  sudden  attention.  "Do  you  think 
your  enemies  followed  you  there  ?" 

I  was  taken  aback  with  the  vision  of  the  Wolf 
figure  in  the  grimy  passage,  a  fiend  in  the  intoxica 
tion  of  opium,  and  stammered  for  a  reply. 

"My  snake-eyed  friend  made  himself  a  little 
familiar,  I'm  afraid,"  I  admitted. 

"It  is  dreadful  that  these  dangers  should  follow 
you  everywhere,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp  writh  feeling. 
"You  must  be  careful." 

"I  have  developed  eyes  in  the  back  of  my  head," 
I  said,  smiling  at  her  concern. 

"I  fear  you  need  more  than  that.  Now  tell  me 
how  it  all  happened,  just  as  you  saw  it.  I'm  afraid 
Luella  was  a  little  too  hysterical  to  give  a  true  ac 
count  of  it." 

I  gave  her  the  story  of  the  scene  in  the  passage, 
with  a  few  judicious  emendations.  I  thought  it 
hardly  worth  while  to  mention  Doddridge  Knapp's 
appearance,  or  a  few  other  items  that  were  more 
precious  to  me  than  to  anybody  else. 

When  I  had  done  Mrs.  Knapp  sighed. 

"There  must  be  an  end  of  this  some  day,"  she 
said. 

"I  hope  the  day  isn't  far  off,"  I  confessed,  "unless 


232  BLINDFOLDED 

it  should  happen  to  be  the  day  the  coroner  is  called 
on  to  take  a  particular  interest  in  my  person." 

Mrs.  Knapp  shuddered. 

"Oh  no,  no — not  that  way." 

Then  after  a  pause,  she  continued :  "Would  you 
not  rather  attack  your  dangers  at  once,  and  have 
them  over,  than  to  wait  for  them  to  seek  you?" 

I  felt  a  trifle  uneasy  at  this  speech.  There  seemed 
to  be  a  suggestion  in  it  that  I  could  end  the  whole 
matter  by  marching  on  my  enemies,  and  coming 
to  decisive  battle.  I  wished  I  knew  what  she  was 
hinting  at,  and  how  it  was  to  be  done,  before  I  an 
swered. 

"I  haven't  felt  any  particular  disposition  to  hunt 
them  up,"  I  confessed,  "but  if  I  could  cut  off  all  the 
heads  of  the  hydra  at  once,  it  would  be  worth  while. 
Anything  for  peace  and  quiet,  you  know." 

Mrs.  Knapp  smiled. 

"Well,  there  is  no  use  challenging  your  fate. 
There  is  no  need  for  you  to  act,  unless  the  boy  is  in 
danger." 

"Oh,  no,  none  at  all,"  I  replied  unblushingly. 

"And  we'll  hope  that  he  will  be  kept  safe  until  the 
danger  has  passed." 

I  hoped  so  devoutly,  and  said  as  much.  And  after 
a  few  more  words,  Mrs.  Knapp  led  me,  feebly  re 
sisting,  to  Mrs.  Bowser. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Wilton,"  said  that  charming  dame,  "my 
heart  goes  pit-a-pat  when  I  see  you,  for  it's  almost 
like  being  among  those  dreadful  highbinders  again, 


MAKING   PROGRESS  233 

and  how  could  you  bring  the  horrid  creatures  down 
on  our  dear  Luella,  when  she  might  have  been  cap 
tured  and  sold  into  slavery  under  our  very  eyes." 

"Ah,  Mrs.  Bowser,"  said  I  gallantly,  "I  ought  to 
have  known  what  to  expect  on  bringing  such  a 
temptation  before  our  Chinese  friends.  I  do  not  see 
how  you  escaped  being  carried  off  " 

"Oh,  now,  Mr.  Wilton,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bowser, 
retreating  behind  her  fan ;  "you  are  really  too  flatter 
ing.  I  must  say,  though,  that  some  of  them  did  make 
dreadful  eyes  at  me,  till  I  felt  that  I  should  faint. 
And  do  they  really  hold  their  slave-market  right  in 
the  middle  of  San  Francisco  ?  And  why  doesn't  the 
president  break  it  up,  and  what  is  the  Emancipa 
tion  Proclamation  for,  I  should  like  to  know?" 

"Madam,"  I  replied,  "the  slave-market  is  sub 
rosa,  but  I  advise  you  to  keep  out  of  Chinatown. 
Some  temptations  are  irresistible." 

Mrs.  Bowser  giggled  behind  her  fan  and  was  too 
pleased  to  speak,  and  I  took  advantage  of  the  lull  to 
excuse  myself  and  make  a  dive  into  the  next  room 
where  I  espied  Luella. 

"Yes,  you  may  sit  down  here,"  she  said  carelessly. 
"I  want  to  be  amused." 

I  was  not  at  all  certain  that  I  was  flattered  to  be 
considered  amusing ;  but  I  was  willing  to  stay  on  any 
terms,  so  we  fell  into  animated  conversation  on 
nothing  and  everything.  In  the  midst  of  this  enter 
taining  situation  I  discovered  that  Mrs.  Knapp  was 
watching  us,  and  her  face  showed  no  easy  state  of 


234  BLINDFOLDED 

mind.  As  I  caught  her  eye  she  moved  away,  and  a 
minute  later  Mr.  Carter  appeared  with, — 

"Excuse  me,  Miss  Knapp,  but  your  mother  would 
like  to  see  you.  She  and  my  wife  have  some  con 
spiracy  on  hand." 

I  was  pleased  to  see  that  Luella  did  not  take  the 
interruption  gratefully,  but  she  surrendered  her  place 
to  Mr.  Carter,  who  talked  about  the  weather  with  a 
fertility  of  commonplaces  that  excited  my  admira 
tion.  But  as  even  the  weather  has  its  limits  as  a  sub 
ject  of  interest  and  the  hour  grew  late,  I  suppressed 
a  yawn  and  sought  the  ladies  to  take  my  leave. 

"Oh,  must  you  go?"  said  Luella,  rising.  And, 
leaving  Mrs.  Carter  to  her  mother,  she  walked  with 
me  to  the  hall  as  though  she  would  speak  with  me. 

But  once  more  alone,  with  only  the  hum  of  voices 
from  the  reception-room  as  company,  she  fell  silent, 
and  I  could  think  of  nothing  to  say. 

"It's  very  good  of  you  to  come,"  she  said  hesitat 
ingly. 

My  mind  went  back  to  that  other  evening  when  I 
had  left  the  door  in  humiliation  and  bitterness  of 
spirit.  Perhaps  she,  too,  was  thinking  of  the  time. 

"It's  much  better  of  you  to  wish  me  to  come/'  I 
said  with  all  my  heart,  taking  her  hand. 

"Come  on  Saturday,"  she  said  at  last. 

"I'm  at  your  service  at  any  time,"  I  murmured. 

"Don't,"  she  said.  "That's  conventional.  If  you 
are  to  be  conventional  you're  not  to  come."  And 
she  laughed  nervously. 


MAKING  PROGRESS  235 

I  looked  into  her  eyes,  and  then  on  impulse 
stooped  and  kissed  the  hand  I  still  held. 

"It  was  what  I  meant,"  I  said. 

She  snatched  her  hand  away,  and  as  she  did  so  I 
saw  in  the  dim  light  that  hid  the  further  end  of  the 
hall,  the  figure  of  the  Wolf,  massive,  dark,  threaten 
ing,  and  my  mind  supplied  it  with  all  the  fires  of 
passion  and  hate  with  which  I  had  twice  seen  the 
face  inflamed. 

Luella's  eyes  grew  large  writh  wonder  and  alarm 
as  she  caught  on  my  face  the  reflection  of  the 
Wolf's  coming.  But  as  she  turned  to  look,  the 
figure  faded  away  without  sound,  and  there  was  only 
Mrs.  Knapp  appearing  in  the  doorway;  and  her 
alarm  turned  to  amusement. 

"Oh,  I  was  afraid  you  had  gone,"  said  Mrs. 
Knapp.  "Would  you  mind,  Luella,  looking  after 
the  guests  a  minute  ?" 

Luella  bowed  me  a  good  night  and  was  gone. 

"Oh,  Henry,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp,  "I  wanted  to  ask 
you  about  Mr.  Knapp.  Is  your  aid  absolutely  es 
sential  to  his  success?" 

"I  presume  not,  thought  it  would  probably  em 
barrass  him  somewhat  if  I  should  take  ship  for 
China  before  morning." 

As  I  held  in  the  bank  securities  worth  nearly  three 
millions  of  dollars,  I  believed  that  I  spoke  within 
bounds. 

"I  suppose  it  would  do  no  good  to  try  to  dissuade 
him  from  his  plans  ?" 


236  BLINDFOLDED 

"It  would  take  a  bolder  man  than  I,"  said  I  with 
a  smile  at  the  audacity  of  the  idea. 

Mrs.  Knapp  smiled  sadly  in  response. 

"Do  you  think,  Henry,"  she  asked  hesitatingly, 
"do  you  think  that  Mr.  Knapp  is  quite  himself  ?" 

My  mind  leaped  at  the  recollection  of  the  Wolf 
figure  in  the  opium-dens.  But  I  choked  down  the 
thought,  and  replied  calmly: 

"He  certainly  has  a  vigorous  business  head  on  his 
shoulders." 

"I  wish  you  could  tell  me  about  his  business  af 
fairs,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp  wistfully.  "But  I  know  you 
won't." 

"You  wouldn't  think  much  of  me  if  I  did,"  I  said 
boldly. 

"It  would  be  right  to  tell  me"  she  said.  "But  I 
mustn't  keep  you  standing  here.  Good  night." 

I  walked  down  the  steps,  and  joined  my  waiting 
guards  with  a  budget  of  new  thoughts  and  feelings 
to  examine. 

The  three  days  that  followed  were  days  of  storm 
and  stress  in  the  market;  a  time  of  steady  battle  in 
the  Stock  Exchange,  of  feints  and  sallies  on  stocks 
/which  we  did  not  want,  of  "wash  sales"  and  bogus 
bargains,  of  rumors  on  rumors  and  stratagems  on 
stratagems — altogether  a  harvest  season  for  the 
Father  of  Lies. 

Doddridge  Knapp  fought  for  the  control  of 
Omega,  and  the  Decker  syndicate  fought  as  stub 
bornly  for  the  same  end,  I  was  forced  to  admire  the 


MAKING   PROGRESS  237 

fertility  of  resource  displayed  by  the  King  of  the 
Street.  He  was  carrying  on  the  fight  with  the 
smaller  capital,  yet  by  his  attack  and  defense  he  em 
ployed  his  resources  to  better  result.  The  \veakness 
of  the  syndicate  lay  in  its  burden  of  Confidence  and 
Crown  Diamond.  Doddridge  Knapp  had  sold  out 
his  holdings  of  both  at  a  handsome  profit,  but,  so 
far  from  ceasing  his  sales  of  these  stocks,  as  I  had 
expected,  he  had  only  begun.  He  suddenly  devel 
oped  into  a  most  pronounced  "bear,"  and  sold  both 
stocks  for  future  delivery  in  great  blocks.  He  was 
cautious  with  Confidence,  but  his  assaults  on  Crown 
Diamond  were  ruthless.  At  every  session  he  sold  for 
future  delivery  at  lower  and  lower  prices,  and  a  large 
contingent  of  those  "on  the  Street"  joined  in  the 
bear  movement.  Decker  and  his  brokers  stood  gal 
lantly  to  the  defense  of  their  threatened  properties 
and  bought  heavily.  Yet  it  was  evident  that  Omega, 
Crown  Diamond  and  Confidence  together  made  a 
little  heavier  burden  than  even  the  El  Dorado  Bank 
could  carry.  In  spite  of  their  efforts  to  buy  every 
thing  that  was  offered,  Crown  Diamond  "futures" 
fell  to  forty,  thirty,  twenty-five,  and  even  twenty, 
closing  at  the  afternoon  session  at  twenty  and  three- 
fourths. 

But  the  King  of  the  Street  was  less  successful  in 
his  manipulation  of  Omega.  Despite  his  efforts,  de 
spite  the  rumors  that  were  industriously  spread 
about  of  the  "pinching  out"  of  the  great  veins,  the 
price  continued  to  go  up  by  leaps  and  bounds.  The 


238  BLINDFOLDED 

speculating  public  as  well  as  Decker  and  Company 
were  reaching  out  for  the  stock,  and  it  was  forced  up 
ten  and  twenty  points  at  a  time,  closing  on  Saturday 
afternoon  at  three  hundred  and  twenty-five. 

"This  is  merry  war,"  gasped  Wallbridge,  at  the 
close  of  the  last  session.  "I  wouldn't  have  missed 
this  for  five  years  of  my  life.  Doddridge  Knapp  is 
the  boy  for  making  the  market  hum  when  he  takes 
the  notion.  By  George,  we've  had  a  picnic  this  week ! 
And  last  Monday  I  thought  everything  was  dead, 
too!" 

"Doddridge  Knapp'"  I  exclaimed.  "Is  he  in  this 
deal,  too?" 

Wallbridge  looked  at  me  in  a  little  confusion,  and 
mopped  his  head  with  comical  abandon.  Then  he 
winked  a  most  diabolical  wink,  and  chuckled. 

"Of  course,  a  secret's  a  secret ;  but  when  the  whole 
Street's  talking  about  it,  you  can't  exactly  call  it  a 
close-corporation  secret,"  he  explained  apologeti 
cally. 

I  assured  the  stout  little  broker  solemnly  that 
Doddridge  Knapp  was  to  know  nothing  of  my  deal 
ings. 

"I'll  do  anything  for  a  good  customer  like  you," 
he  gasped.  "Lord,  if  it  wasn't  for  the  lying,  where 
would  the  market  be?  Dead,  sir,  dead!"  And  Wall- 
bridge  shook  his  head  merrily  over  the  moral  degra 
dation  of  the  business  that  chained  his  thoughts  by 
day  and  his  dreams  by  night. 

I  joined  Doddridge  Knapp  at  the  office  and  con- 


MAKING   PROGRESS  239 

fided  to  him  the  fact  that  the  cat  was  out  of  the  bag. 
The  King  of  the  Street  looked  a  little  amused  at  the 
announcement. 

"Good  Lord,  Wilton !  Where  are  your  ears  ?"  he 
said.  "The  Street  had  the  whole  story  on  Friday. 
Decker  was  sure  of  it  on  Wednesday.  But  I  kept 
under  cover  long  enough  to  get  a  good  start,  and 
that  was  as  much  as  I  expected." 

"How  do  we  stand  now?"  I  asked.  I  knew  that 
our  purchases  had  not  been  progressing  very  well. 

"There's  five  hundred  shares  to  get,"  said  the 
King  of  the  Street  thoughtfully;  "five  hundred  and 
thirty-six,  to  be  accurate." 

"That's  not  a  very  promising  outlook,"  I  sug 
gested,  remembering  that  we  had  secured  only  four 
hundred  shares  in  the  whole  day's  struggle. 

"Well,  there'll  be  an  earthquake  in  the  Street  if 
we  don't  get  them,  and  maybe  there'll  be  one  if  we 
do.  Decker  is  likely  to  dump  all  his  shares  on  the 
market  the  minute  we  win,  and  it  will  be  the  devil's 
own  job  to  keep  the  bottom  from  falling  out  if  he 
does." 

The  King  of  the  Street  then  gave  some  brief  di 
rections. 

"Now,"  he  continued,  "you  are  to  be  at  the  Ex 
change  without  fail,  on  Monday  morning.  I'll  be 
there  to  give  you  your  orders.  Don't  be  one  minute 
behind  hand,  or  there  may  be  Tophet  to  pay."  And 
he  emphasized  his  words  with  an  impressive  growl 
that  showed  the  Wolf's  fangs. 


24o  BLINDFOLDED 

"I'll  be  on  hand,"  I  replied. 

"Well,  then,  go,"  he  growled ;  "and  see  that  you 
come  with  a  clear  head  on  Monday.  Keep  your 
thirst  until  after  the  game  is  over." 

A  few  hours  later  I  was  at  the  house  of  the  Wolf, 
but  I  forgot  to  ask  for  Doddridge  Knapp.  Luella  re 
ceived  me  with  apparent  indifference  that  contrasted 
sharply  with  her  parting,  and  I  was  piqued.  Mrs. 
Knapp  was  gracious,  and  sailed  between  us  before 
I  had  received  a  dozen  words. 

"Where  are  your  spirits  to-night?"  she  asked  rail- 
ingly.  "Have  you  left  them  in  lower  Pine  Street  ?" 

"I  have  a  heart  for  any  fate,"  I  returned  lightly. 
"Am  I  too  grave  for  the  occasion  ?" 

"You're  always  under  orders  to  be  cheerful," 
Luella  broke  in,  "or  at  least  to  explain  the  reason 
why." 

"He  can't  explain,"  retorted  her  mother.  "Mr. 
Knapp  won't  let  him." 

It  struck  me,  on  watching  mother  and  daughter, 
that  it  was  they  who  were  grave.  Luella  gave  an 
occasional  flash  of  brightness,  but  seemed  tired  or 
depressed,  while  Mrs.  Knapp  appeared  to  struggle 
against  some  insistent  sorrow.  But  presently  we 
found  a  subject  in  which  Luella  roused  her  interest, 
and  her  bright  mind  and  ready  wit  drove  away  the 
fancy  that  had  first  assailed  me.  Then  some  caller 
claimed  the  attention  of  Mrs.  Knapp,  and  I  was  con 
tent  to  monopolize  Luella's  conversation  for  the 
evening.  At  last  I  was  constrained  to  go.  Mrs. 


MAKING    PROGRESS  241 

Knapp  was  still  busied  in  conversation  with  her  vis 
itor,  and  Luella  followed  me  once  more  into  the  hall. 

Again  her  animation  left  her,  and  she  was  silent; 
and  I,  on  my  side,  could  think  of  nothing  to  say. 
Then  her  deep  gray  eyes  flashed  upon  me  a  look  that 
sent  my  pulses  throbbing,  an  indefinable,  pleading 
glance  that  shook  my  soul. 

"Can't  you  tell  me — won't  you  tell  me  ?"  she  said 
in  a  low  tone  that  was  the  complement  of  the  silent 
speech  of  the  eyes. 

"I  wish  I  could,"  I  whispered. 

"I  know  it  must  be  right — it  is  right,"  she  said  in 
the  same  tone.  "But  I  wish  that  I  might  know.  Will 
you  not  tell  me?" 

"I  will  tell  you  some  day,"  I  said  brokenly.  "Now 
it  is  another's,  and  I  can  not.  But  it  shall  all  be 
yours." 

"All?" 

"Everything." 

In  another  moment  I  know  not  what  I  should  have 
done,  so  stirred  and  tempted  was  I  by  her  tone  and 
look.  But  in  an  instant  her  manner  changed,  and 
she  exclaimed  in  a  mocking  voice : 

"Now  I  have  your  promise,  so  I'll  let  you  go. 
You'd  better  not  linger,  or  mama  will  certainly  have 
some  business  to  talk  over  with  you."  And  before  I 
could  touch  her  hand  she  was  gone,  and  her  laugh 
ing  "good  night"  echoed  down  the  hall. 

I  was  puzzled  by  these  changes  of  mood,  and  de 
cided  that  Luella  Knapp  was  a  most  unaccountable 


242  BLINDFOLDED 

young  woman.  And  then  there  dashed  over  me 
a  sickening  realization  of  what  I  had  done,  of  what 
I  had  promised,  and  of  how  impossible  it  was  that  I 
should  ever  reveal  to  her  the  secret  I  guarded.  I 
cursed  the  mad  folly  and  crime  of  her  father,  for 
they  stood  between  her  and  me.  Yet  under  the  sub 
tle  influence  that  she  cast  upon  me  I  felt  the  bonds 
of  duty  relaxed  and  slipping  away.  I  had  now  to 
confess  to  myself  that  I  loved  Luella  Knapp.  And 
she?  I  hoped  and  feared,  and  ran  over  in  my  mind 
every  incident  of  my  later  visits  that  might  tell  in 
what  regard  I  was  held — the  tones,  the  words,  the 
manner,  that  ran  from  deep  interest  to  indifference. 
And  trying  to  untangle  the  skein,  I  was  a  good  deal 
startled  to  feel  a  touch  on  my  arm  as  I  reached  the 
sidewalk. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  Porter,  is  it?"  I  exclaimed,  on  re 
cognizing  my  retainer.  "Is  Barkhouse  here?" 

"Yes,  sir.  An'  here's  Wilson  with  a  message  for 
you." 

"A  message  for  me !  From  whom  ?" 

Wilson  took  me  aside,  and  thrust  an  envelope  into 
my  hand. 

"That  come  to  your  room — about  nine  o'clock,  I 
reckon,"  he  said.  "Leastways,  that's  the  first  we 
saw  of  it.  An'  Mother  Borton  was  there,  an'  she 
says  she  must  see  you  to-night,  sure.  She  wouldn't 
stay,  but  says  you  was  to  come  down  there  before 
you  goes  to  bed,  sure,  if  you  wants  to  keep  out  of 
trouble." 


MAKING   PROGRESS  243 

I  looked  at  the  envelope,  and  in  the  flickering  light 
from  the  street-lamp  I  could  make  out  the  address 
to  Henry  Wilton.  By  the  handwriting  and  by  the 
indefinable  scent  that  rose  from  the  paper,  I  knew 
it  for  a  message  from  the  Unknown  who  held  for 
me  the  secrets  of  life  and  death. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

AT   THE   BIDDING   OF   THE   UNKNOWN 

The  windows  of  Borton's  shone  cheerfully,  al 
though  it  was  past  midnight.  At  our  cautious  ap 
proach  a  signal  was  given,  and  with  the  answering 
word  a  man  appeared  from  the  obscurity. 

"All  safe?"  I  inquired. 

"It's  all  right,"  said  Barkhouse.  "There's  a  dozen 
men  in  the  bar-room,  and  I'm  not  sure  there  ain't 
some  of  the  hounds  amongst  them.  But  you're  to  go 
in  the  side  door,  and  right  up  stairs." 

"Two  of  you  may  keep  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs, 
just  inside  the  door,"  I  said.  "You  may  stand  watch 
outside,  Barkhouse." 

There  was  sound  of  rude  song,  and  the  clink  of 
glass  and  bottle  in  the  bar  and  dining-room,  as  I 
passed  through  the  side  hall.  But  the  door  was 
closed,  and  I  saw  nothing  of  the  late  revelers.  In 
the  upper  hallway  Mother  Borton  stood  by  an  open 
door,  silhouetted  dark  and  threatening  against  the 
dim  flickerings  that  came  from  the  candle  in  the 
room  behind  her. 

I  had  but  opened  my  mouth  to  give  her  word  of 
greeting  when  she  raised  a  warning  claw,  and  then 

244 


THE  UNKNOWN  245 

seizing  me,  drew  me  swiftly  into  the  room  and  closed 
and  locked  the  door. 

"How  air  ye,  dearie?"  she  said,  surveying  me  with 
some  apparent  pride.  " You're  safe  and  whole,  ain't 
ye?" 

As  the  candlelight  fell  on  her  face,  she  seemed 
older  and  more  like  a  bird  of  prey  than  ever.  The 
nose  and  chin  had  taken  a  sharper  cast,  the  lines  of 
her  face  were  deeper  drawn  with  the  marks  of  her 
evil  life,  and  her  breath  was  strong  with  the  strength 
of  water-front  whisky.  But  her  eyes  burned  bright 
and  keen  as  ever  in  their  sunken  sockets,  with  the 
fire  of  her  fevered  brain  behind  them. 

"I  am  safe,"  I  said,  "though  I  had  a  close  shave  in 
Chinatown." 

"I  heerd  of  it,"  said  Mother  Borton  sourly.  "I 
reckon  it  ain't  much  good  to  sit  up  nights  to  tell  you 
how  to  take  keer  of  yourself.  It's  a  wonder  you  ever 
growed  up.  Your  mammy  must  'a'  been  mighty 
keerful  about  herdin'  ye  under  cover  whenever  it 
rained." 

"I  was  a  little  to  blame,"  I  admitted,  "but  your 
warning  was  not  thrown  away.  I  thought  I  was  well- 
guarded." 

Mother  Borton  sniffed  contemptuously. 

"I  s'pose  you  come  down  here  alone?" 

"No."  And  I  explained  the  disposition  of  my 
forces. 

"That's  not  so  bad,"  she  said.  "They  could  git  up 
here  soon  enough,  I  reckon,  if  there  was  a  row.  But 


246  BLINDFOLDED 

I  guess  you  didn't  think  I  sent  for  ye  jest  to  tell  ye 
you  was  a  fool  in  Chinatown." 

I  admitted  that  I  should  have  expected  to  wait  til! 
morning  for  such  a  piece  of  information. 

"Well,"  said  Mother  Borton,  "that  ain't  it.  Some 
thing's  up." 

"And  what  might  it  be?"  I  inquired.  "The 
moon?" 

Mother  Borton  did  not  take  this  flippancy  kindly. 
Her  face  grew  darker  and  more  evil  as  it  was  framed 
in  the  dancing  shadows  behind  her. 

"You  can  git  a  knife  in  ye  as  easy  as  winking  if 
I'll  jest  keep  my  mouth  shut,"  she  cried  spitefully. 

"Yes,"  said  I  repentantly,  putting  my  hand  upon 
her  arm.  "But  you  are  my  very  good  friend,  and 
will  tell  me  what  I  ought  to  know." 

The  creature's  face  lighted  at  my  tone  and  action, 
and  her  eyes  melted  with  a  new  feeling. 

"That  I  will,"  she  said;  "that  I  will,  as  if  you 
were  my  own  boy." 

She  seized  my  hand  and  held  it  as  she  spoke,  and 
looked  intently,  almost  lovingly,  on  my  face.  Else 
where  I  could  have  shivered  at  the  thought  of  her 
touch.  Here,  with  the  bent  figure  amid  the  gloomy 
shadows  of  the  den  in  which  we  sat,  with  the  atmos 
phere  of  danger  heavy  about  us,  I  was  moved  by  a 
glow  of  kindly  feeling. 

"I  was  a-listening  to  'em,"  she  continued  in  a  low, 
earnest  tone,  glancing  around  fearfully  as  if  she  had 
the  thought  that  some  one  else  might  be  listening  in 


THE   UNKNOWN  247 

turn.  "I  was  a-listening,  an'  I  heerd  what  they 
says." 

"Who  said?"  I  inquired. 

"The  ones  you  knows  on,"  she  returned  mysteri 
ously. 

"What  ones?"  I  persisted,  though  I  supposed  she 
meant  to  indicate  some  of  my  energetic  enemies. 

Mother  Borton  paid  no  attention  to  my  question, 
and  continued : 

"I  knowed  they  was  a-talking  about  you,  an'  they 
says  they  would  cut  your  liver  out  if  they  found  ye 
there." 

"And  where  is  there?"  I  asked  with  growing  in 
terest. 

"That's  what  I  was  listening  to  find  out,"  said 
Mother  Borton.  "I  couldn't  hear  much  of  what  they 
says,  but  I  hears  enough  to  git  an  idee." 

"Well  ?"  I  said  inquiringly  as  she  hesitated. 

She  bent  forward  and  hissed  rather  than  whis 
pered  : 

"They've  found  out  where  the  boy  is !" 

"Are  you  certain?"  I  asked  in  sudden  alarm. 

"Pretty  sure,"  she  said,  "pretty  sure.  Now  you 
won't  go  near  the  place,  will  ye,  dearie?"  she  con 
tinued  anxiously. 

"You  forget  that  I  haven't  the  first  idea  where  the 
boy  is  hidden,"  I  returned. 

"Oh,  Lord,  yes!  I  reckon  my  mind's  going," 
grunted  Mother  Borton.  "But  I'm  afeard  of  their 
knives  for  ye." 


248  BLINDFOLDED 

"I  wish  I  could  give  warning,"  said  I,  much  dis 
turbed  by  the  information.  "The  protector  of  the 
boy  ought  to  know  about  this.  I'm  afraid  I  have 
done  wrong." 

Mother  Borton  looked  at  me  fixedly. 

"Don't  you  worry,  my  dear.  She'll  know  about  it 
all  right." 

Again  the  feeling  stole  over  me  that  this  woman 
knew  more  than  she  told.  But  I  knew  that  it  was 
useless  to  question  her  directly.  I  considered  a  mo 
ment,  and  then  decided  to  trust  her  with  a  secret 
which  might  surprise  her  into  admitting  her  know 
ledge. 

"I  suspect  that  she  knows  already.  I  got  a  note 
to-night,"  said  I,  drawing  from  my  pocket  the  en 
velope  I  had  received  from  the  Unknown. 

Mother  Borton  seized  it,  looked  for  a  moment  at 
the  firm,  delicate  hand  of  the  address,  and  drew  out 
the  sheet  that  it  inclosed. 

"Read  it,  dearie,"  she  said,  handing  it  back  after 
a  scrutiny.  "I  can't  tell  anything  but  big  print." 

I  suspected  that  Mother  Borton  was  trying  to  de 
ceive  me,  but  I  repeated  the  words  of  the  note : 

"Send  six  men  to  8  o'clock  boat.  Come  with  one 
in  hack  to  courtyard  of  the  Palace  Hotel  at  7 140." 

Mother  Borton's  face  changed  not  a  whit  at  the 
reading,  but  at  the  end  she  nodded. 
"She  knows,"  she  said. 


THE   UNKNOWN  249 

"What  does  it  mean?"  I  asked.  "What  is  to 
happen?" 

"Don't  go,  dearie — you  won't  go,  will  you?" 

"Yes,"  I  said.   "I  must  go." 

"Oh,"  she  wailed ;  "you  may  be  killed.  You  may 
never  come  back/' 

"Nonsense,"  said  I.  "In  broad  daylight,  at  the 
Palace  Hotel  ?  I'm  much  more  likely  to  be  killed  be 
fore  I  get  home  to-night." 

Her  earnestness  impressed  me,  but  my  resolution 
was  not  shaken.  Mother  Borton  rested  her  head  on 
the  table  in  despair  at  my  obstinacy. 

"Well,  if  you  will,  you  will,"  she  said  at  last; 
"and  an  old  woman's  warnings  are  nothing  to  you. 
But  if  you  will  put  your  head  in  the  traps,  I'll  do  my 
best  to  make  it  safe  after  you  git  it  there.  You  jist 
sit  still,  honey."  And  she  took  the  candle  and  went 
to  a  corner  where  she  seated  herself  at  a  stand. 

Her  shadow  grew  very  large,  and  her  straggling 
locks  sent  streamers  of  blackness  dancing  on  the 
grimy  ceiling.  The  weird  figure,  thrown  into  bold 
relief  by  the  candle-lighted  wall  beyond  it  while  all; 
else  was  in  obscurity,  gave  an  uncanny  feeling  that 
turned  half  to  dread  as  I  looked  upon  her.  What 
secret  did  she  hold?  \Vhat  was  the  danger  she 
feared  ? 

Mother  Borton  appeared  to  have  some  difficulty 
in  arranging  her  words  to  her  liking.  She  seemed  to 
be  writing,  but  the  pen  did  not  flow  smoothly.  At 
last  she  was  done,  and,  sealing  her  work  in  an  en- 


250  BLINDFOLDED 

velope,  she  brought  the  flickering  light  once  more  to 
the  table. 

"Take  that,"  she  said,  thrusting  the  envelope  into 
my  hand.  "If  you  find  a  one-eyed  man  when  you 
git  into  trouble,  give  him  that  letter  I've  writ  ye,  and 
it  may  do  ye  some  good.  It's  the  best  I  can  do  fer 
ye.  You'd  better  go  now  and  git  some  sleep.  You 
may  need  it." 

I  thanked  Mother  Borton  and  pressed  her  hand, 
and  she  held  the  candle  as  I  tiptoed  down  the  stairs, 
joined  my  waiting  guards,  and  went  out  into  the 
night. 

The  fresh,  cool  air  of  the  early  morning  hours 
was  grateful  after  the  close  and  tainted  atmosphere 
of  the  den  we  had  left,  but  I  had  other  things  to 
think  of  than  the  pleasure  of  once  more  filling  my 
lungs. 

"Where  are  Barkhouse  and  Phillips?"  I  asked,  as 
we  turned  our  faces  toward  the  west. 

Porter  gave  a  low  whistle,  and,  as  this  failed  to 
bring  an  answer,  followed  it  with  one  louder  and 
more  prolonged.  We  listened,  but  no  response  came. 

"We'd  better  get  out  of  here,"  said  Wilson. 
"There's  no  telling  what  may  happen  when  they 
hear  that  whistle." 

"Hist!  What's  that?"  said  Porter,  drawing  me 
back  into  a  doorway. 

There  were  running  steps  on  the  block  above  us, 
and  I  thought  a  shadow  darted  from  one  side  of  the 
street  to  the  other. 


THE    UNKNOWN  251 

"There  seem  to  be  friends  waiting  for  us/'  said  I. 
"Just  get  a  good  grip  of  your  clubs,  boys,  and  keep 
your  revolvers  handy  in  case  they  think  they  have  a 
call  to  stop  us." 

"Hold  on,"  said  Porter.  "There's  a  gang  of  'em 
there.  I  see  a  dozen  of  'em,  and  if  we're  the  ones 
they're  after  we  had  better  cut  for  it." 

"I  believe  you  are  right,"  said  I,  peering  into  the 
darkness.  I  could  see  a  confused  mass,  but  whether 
of  men  or  boxes  I  could  only  guess. 

"We'll  go  up  here,  and  you  can  cut  around  the 
other  way,"  said  Porter.  "There's  no  need  for  you 
to  risk  it." 

"There's  no  need  for  any  one  to  risk  it.  We'll 
cut  together." 

"This  way  then,"  said  Wilson.  "I  know  this  part 
of  town  better  than  you  do.  Run  on  your  toes." 
And  he  darted  past  Borton's,  and  plunged  into  an 
alley  that  led  toward  the  north.  Porter  and  I  fol 
lowed,  as  quietly  as  possible,  through  the  dark  and 
noisome  cut-off  to  Pacific  Street.  Wilson  turned  to 
ward  the  bay,  and  crossing  the  street  at  the  next 
corner  followed  the  main  thoroughfare  to  Broad 
way. 

"I  guess  we're  all  right  now,"  he  gasped,  as  we 
turned  again  to  the  west,  "but  we'd  best  keep  to  the 
middle  of  the  street." 

And  a  little  later  we  were  in  sight  of  the  house  of 
mystery  which  fronted,  forbidding  and  gloomy  as 
ever,  on  Montgomery  Street. 


252  BLINDFOLDED 

"Where's  Barkhouse?"  I  asked  of  Trent,  who 
was  on  guard. 

"He  hasn't  come  in,  sir.  Phillips  got  here  a  bit 
ago,  and  I  think  he  has  something  to  report." 

As  Phillips  had  been  sent  scouting  with  Barkhouse 
I  thought  it  likely,  and  called  him  to  my  room. 

"No,  sir,  I  didn't  see  Bob  for  nigh  on  an  hour  be 
fore  I  came  back.  Not  after  we  got  to  Borton's." 

"I  left  him  just  outside  the  door,"  I  said. 

"Then  you  seen  him  after  I  did.  I  was  following 
two  fellows  down  to  the  Den,  you  know,  and  that 
was  the  last  I  seen  of  Bob." 

1  understood  that  the  Den  was  one  of  the  meet 
ing-places  of  the  enemy. 

"Did  you  find  anything  there  ?" 

"Not  a  thing.  The  two  fellows  went  in,  but  they 
didn't  come  out.  Another  gang  of  three  comes 
along  and  goes  in,  but  none  of  'em  shows  up  again, 
and  I  reckoned  they'd  gone  to  bed ;  so  I  takes  it  as  a 
hint  and  comes  up  here." 

"I  suppose  it  would  have  done  no  good  to  wait." 

"You  don't  think  Bob's  been  took,  do  you?" 

I  did  feel  uneasy  over  the  absence  of  the  stalwart 
scout,  and  but  for  the  orders  I  had  received  for  the 
morning  I  should  have  had  my  forces  out  to  find 
him,  or  get  a  hostage  in  exchange.  But  as  it  was,  I 
dissembled  my  fears  and  made  some  reassuring  re 
ply. 

At  the  earliest  light  of  the  morning  I  was  once 
more  astir,  but  half-refreshed  by  my  short  and 


THE    UNKNOWN  253 

broken  rest,  and  made  my  dispositions  for  the  day.  I 
ordered  Porter,  Fitzhugh,  Brown,  Wilson,  Lock- 
hart  and  Abrams  to  wait  for  me  at  the  Oakland 
Ferry.  Trent,  who  was  still  weak  from  his  wound, 
I  put  in  charge  of  the  home-guard,  with  Owens, 
Phillips  and  Larson  as  his  companions,  and  gave  in 
structions  to  look  for  Barkhouse,  in  case  he  did  not 
return.  Wainright  I  took  with  me,  and  hailing  a 
hack  drove  to  the  Palace  Hotel. 

There  was  a  rattle  of  wagons  and  a  bustle  of  de 
parting  guests  as  we  drove  into  the  courtyard  of  the 
famous  hostelry.  The  eight-o'clock  boat  was  to  carry 
the  passengers  for  the  east-bound  overland  train, 
and  the  outgoing  travelers  were  filling  the  place  with 
noise  and  confusion. 

I  stepped  out  of  the  hack,  and  looked  about  me 
anxiously.  Was  I  to  meet  the  Unknown?  or  was  1 
to  take  orders  from  some  emissary  of  my  hidden  em 
ployer?  No  answering  eye  met  mine  as  I  searched 
the  place  with  eager  glance.  Neither  woman  nor 
man  of  all  the  hurrying  crowd  had  a  thought  for  me. 

The  hotel  carriages  rattled  away,  and  comparative 
quiet  once  more  fell  on  the  court.  I  looked  impa-t 
tiently  about.  Was  there  some  mistake?  Had  the 
plans  been  changed?  But  as  I  glanced  at  the  clock 
that  ticked  the  seconds  in  the  office  of  the  hotel  I 
saw  that  I  had  been  early,  and  that  it  was  even  now 
but  twenty  minutes  to  the  hour. 

The  minute-hand  had  not  swept  past  the  figure 
VIII  when  the  door  opened,  there  was  a  hurried 


254  BLINDFOLDED 

step,  and  two  women  stood  before  me,  leading  a 
child  between  them.  Both  women  were  closely 
veiled,  and  the  child  was  muffled  and  swathed  till  its 
features  could  not  be  seen. 

One  of  the  women  was  young,  the  other  older — 
perhaps  middle-aged.  Both  were  tall  and  well-made. 
I  looked  eagerly  upon  them,  for  one  of  them  must 
be  the  Unknown,  the  hidden  employer  whose  task 
had  carried  Henry  Wilton  to  his  death,  who  held  my 
life  in  her  hands,  and  who  fought  the  desperate  bat 
tle  with  the  power  and  hatred  of  Doddridge  Knapp. 

I  was  conscious  of  some  disappointment,  I  could 
not  say  why.  But  neither  of  the  women  filled  the 
outline  of  the  shadowy  picture  my  fancy  had  drawn 
of  the  Unknown.  Neither  gave  impression  of  the 
force  and  decision  with  which  my  fancy  had  en 
dowed  the  woman  who  had  challenged  the  resources 
and  defied  the  vengeance  of  the  Wolf.  So  much  I 
took  to  my  thoughts  in  the  flash  of  an  eye  as  they 
approached.  It  was  to  the  younger  that  I  turned  as 
the  more  likely  to  have  the  spirit  of  contest,  but  it 
was  the  older  who  spoke. 

"Here  is  your  charge,  Mr.  Wilton,"  she  said  in  a 
low,  agitated  voice.  As  she  spoke,  I  felt  the  faint 
suggestion  of  the  peculiar  perfume  that  had 
greeted  me  from  the  brief  letters  of  the  Unknown. 

"I  am  ready  for  orders,"  I  said  with  a  bow. 

It  was  apparently  a  mere  business  matter  between 
us.  I  had  fancied  somehow  that  there  had  been  a 
bond  of  friendship,  as  much  as  of  financial  interest, 


THE    UNKNOWN  255 

between  Henry  Wilton  and  his  employer,  and  felt 
the  sense  of  disappointment  once  more. 

"Your  orders  are  in  this  envelope/'  said  the  Un 
known,  hurriedly  thrusting  a  paper  into  my  hand. 
"Drive  for  the  boat,  and  read  them  on  the  vray.  You 
have  no  time  to  lose." 

The  younger  woman  placed  the  child  in  the  hack. 

"Climb  in,  Wainwright,"  said  I,  eying  the  young 
ster  unfavorably.  "Will  he  travel  with  us,  ma'am? 
He's  rather  young." 

"He'll  go  all  right,"  said  the  elder  woman  with 
some  agitation.  "He  knows  that  he  must.  But  treat 
him  carefully.  Now  good-by." 

"Oakland  Ferry,  driver,"  I  cried,  as  I  stepped  into 
the  hack  and  slammed  the  door.  And  in  a  moment 
we  were  dashing  out  into  New  Montgomery  Street, 
and  with  a  turn  were  on  Market  Street,  rolling  over 
the  rough  cobbles  toward  the  bay. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

TRAILED 

"Did  you  see  him?"  asked  Wainwright,  as  the 
hack  lurched  into  Market  Street  and  straightened  its 
course  for  the  ferry. 

"Who?" 

"Tom  Terrill.  He  was  behind  that  big  pillar  near 
the  arch  there.  I  saw  him  just  as  the  old  lady  spoke 
to  you,  but  before  I  catches  your  eye,  he  cuts  and 
runs." 

I  felt  of  my  revolver  at  this  bit  of  news,  and  was 
consoled  to  have  the  touch  of  it  under  my  hand. 

"I  didn't  see  him,"  I  said.  "Keep  the  child  be 
tween  us,  and  shoot  anybody  who  tries  to  stop  us  or 
to  climb  into  the  hack.  I  must  read  my  orders." 

"All  right,  sir,"  said  Wainwright,  making  the 
child  comfortable  between  us. 

I  tore  open  the  envelope  and  drew  forth  the 
scented  paper  with  its  familiar,  firm,  yet  delicate 
handwriting,  and  read  the  words : 

"Take  the  train  with  your  men  for  Livermore. 
Await  orders  at  the  hotel.  Protect  the  boy  at  all  haz 
ards." 

256 


TRAILED  257 

Inclosed  in  the  sheet  were  gold-notes  to  the  value 
of  five  hundred  dollars — a  thoughtful  detail  for 
which  I  was  grateful  at  the  outset  of  such  an  expedi 
tion.  I  thrust  the  money  into  my  pocket  and  pon 
dered  upon  the  letter,  wondering  where  Livermore 
might  be.  My  knowledge  of  the  geography  of  Cali 
fornia  was  exceedingly  scant.  I  knew  that  Oakland 
lay  across  the  bay  and  that  Brooklyn  lay  close  by,  a 
part  of  Oakland.  I  remembered  a  dinner  at  Sacra 
mento,  and  knew  Los  Angeles  on  the  map.  Further 
than  this  my  ideas  were  of  the  most  hazy  character, 
and  Livermore  was  nowhere  to  be  found  in  my  geo 
graphical  memory. 

I  had  some  thought  of  questioning  Wainwright, 
who  was  busy  trying  to  make  friends  with  the  child, 
but  reflecting  that  I  might  be  supposed  to  know  all 
about  it  I  was  silent.  Wainwright's  efforts  to  get 
the  child  to  speak  were  without  success.  The  little 
thing  might  from  its  size  have  been  five  years  old, 
but  it  was  dumb — frightened,  as  I  supposed,  by  the 
strangeness  of  the  situation,  and  would  speak  no 
word. 

This,  then,  was  the  mysterious  boy  whose  fate  wast 
linked  so  closely  with  my  own;  about  whose  body 
battled  the  hirelings  of  Doddridge  Knapp  and  of  my 
unknown  employer;  for  whom  murder  had  been 
done,  and  for  whom  perhaps  many  now  living  were 
to  give  up  their  lives. 

Who  was  he?  Whence  had  he  come?  What  in 
terests  were  bound  up  in  his  life?  Why  was  his  body 


258  BLINDFOLDED 

the  focus  of  plot  and  counterplot,  and  its  possession 
disputed  with  a  fierce  earnestness  that  stopped  at  no 
crime  ?  Perhaps,  could  he  be  got  to  talk,  the  key  of 
the  mystery  might  be  put  in  my  hands.  Out  of  the 
mouth  of  the  babe  I  might  learn  the  secret  that  had 
racked  my  brain  for  days  and  weeks. 

And  why  \vas  he  put  thus  in  my  charge?  What 
was  I  to  do  with  him  ?  Whither  was  I  to  carry  him  ? 
I  reproached  myself  that  I  had  not  stopped  the  Un 
known  to  ask  more  questions,  to  get  more  light  on 
the  duties  that  were  expected  of  me.  But  the  hack 
on  a  sudden  pulled  up,  and  I  saw  that  we  were  before 
the  long,  low,  ugly  wooden  building  that  sat  square 
across  Market  Street  as  the  gateway  to  San  Fran 
cisco  through  which  the  tide  of  travel  must  pass  to 
and  from  the  Golden  City. 

"Look  out  on  both  sides,  Wainwright,"  I  cau 
tioned.  "You  carry  the  boy  and  I'll  shoot  if  there's 
any  trouble.  See  that  you  keep  him  safe." 

There  were  nearly  ten  minutes  before  the  boat 
left,  but  the  hurry  for  tickets,  the  rush  to  check  bag 
gage,  the  shouts  of  hackmen  and  expressmen,  the 
rattle  and  confusion  of  the  coming  and  departing 
street-cars  that  centered  at  the  ferry,  made  us  in 
conspicuous  among  the  throng  as  we  stepped  out  of 
the  hack. 

"Here  Fitzhugh,  Brown/'  I  said,  catching  sight 
of  two  of  my  retainers,  "get  close  about.  Have  you 
seen  anything — any  signs  of  the  enemy?" 

"I  haven't/'  said  Fitzhugh,  "but  Abrams  thought 


TRAILED  259 

he  saw  Dotty  Ferguson  over  by  the  Fair  Wind 
saloon  there.  Said  he  cut  up  Clay  Street  before  the 
rest  of  us  caught  sight  of  him — so  maybe  Abrams 
was  off  his  nut." 

"Quite  likely/'  I  admitted  as  we  turned  the  jut 
ting  corner  of  the  building  and  came  under  shelter 
by  the  ticket  office.  "But  keep  a  close  watch." 

The  other  four  retainers  were  in  the  passageway, 
and  I  called  to  the  ticket-seller  for  the  tickets  to 
Livermore.  By  the  price  I  decided  that  Livermore 
must  be  somewhere  within  fifty  miles,  and  marshal 
ing  my  troop  about  the  boy,  marched  into  the  wait 
ing-room,  past  the  door-keeper,  through  the  sheds, 
and  on  to  the  ferry  boat. 

I  saw  no  signs  of  the  enemy,  and  breathed  freer 
as  the  last  belated  passenger  leaped  aboard,  the  fold 
ing  gang-plank  was  raised,  and  the  steamer,  with  a 
prolonged  blast  of  the  whistle,  slid  out  into  the  yel 
low-green  waters  of  the  bay. 

The  morning  had  dawned  pleasant,  but  the  sky 
was  now  becoming  overcast.  The  wind  came  fresh 
and  strong  from  the  south.  The  white-capped  waves 
were  beginning  to  toss  and  fret  the  shallow  waters, 
and  the  air  gave  promise  of  storm.  We  could  see 
men  busy  making  all  things  snug  on  the  vessels  that 
swung  uneasily  to  their  anchors  in  the  harbor,  and 
tugs  were  rushing  about,  puffing  noisily  over  noth 
ing,  or  here  and  there  towing  some  vessel  to  a  better 
position  to  meet  the  rising  gale.  The  panorama  of 
the  bay,  with  the  smoke-laden  city,  grim  and  dark 


260  BLINDFOLDED 

behind,  the  forest  of  masts  lining  its  shore,  the  yel 
low-green  waters,  dotted  here  and  there  with  sh'ps 
tossing  sharply  above  the  white-capped  waves  that 
chased  each  other  toward  the  north,  the  cloud 
squadrons  flying  up  in  scattered  array  from  the 
south,  and  the  Alameda  hills  lying  somber  and  dark 
under  the  gray  canopy  of  the  eastern  sky  in  front, 
had  a  charm  that  took  my  mind  for  the  time  from 
the  mysterious  enterprise  that  lay  before  me. 

"Keep  together,  boys,"  I  cautioned  my  retainers 
as  I  recalled  the  situation.  "Has  any  one  seen  signs 
of  the  other  gang?" 

There  was  a  general  murmur  in  the  negative. 

"Well,  Abrams,  will  you  slip  around  and  see  if 
any  of  them  got  aboard?  There's  no  such  thing  as 
being  comfortable  until  we  are  sure." 

In  the  hurry  and  excitement  of  preparation  and 
departure,  the  orders  I  had  given  and  received,  and 
the  work  that  filled  every  moment,  I  had  been  con 
scious  of  the  uneasy  burden  of  a  task  forgotten.  I 
had  surely  neglected  something.  Yet  for  my  life  I 
could  not  see  that  we  lacked  anything.  I  had  my 
seven  retainers,  the  boy  was  safe  with  us,  I  had  my 
purse,  we  were  well-armed,  and  every  man  had  his 
ticket  to  Livermore.  But  at  last  the  cause  of  my 
troubles  came  to  my  mind. 

"Great  Scott!"  I  thought.  "It's  Doddridge 
Knapp.  That  little  engagement  in  the  stock-market 
is  casting  its  shadow  before." 

It  seemed  likely  indeed  that  the  demands  of  my 


TRAILED  261 

warring  employers  would  clash  here  as  well  as  in  the 
conflict  over  the  boy. 

Yet  with  all  the  vengeful  feeling  that  filled  my 
heart  as  I  looked  on  the  child  and  called  up  the 
memory  of  my  murdered  friend,  I  could  but  feel  a 
pang  of  regret  at  the  prospect  that  Doddridge 
Knapp's  fortune  should  be  placed  in  hazard  through 
any  unfaithfulness  of  mine.  He  had  trusted  me  with 
his  plans  and  his  money.  And  the  haunting  thought 
that  his  fortune  was  staked  on  the  venture,  and  that 
his  ruin  might  follow,  with  the  possible  beggary  of 
Luella  and  Mrs.  Knapp,  should  I  fail  him  at  to 
morrow's  crisis,  weighed  on  my  spirits. 

My  uncomfortable  reflections  were  broken  by  the 
clanging  engine-bells  and  the  forward  movement  of 
the  passengers  as  the  steamboat  passed  into  the  slip 
at  Long  Wharf. 

"Stand  together,  boys,"  I  cautioned  my  men. 
"Keep  back  of  the  crowd.  Wainwright  will  take  the 
boy,  and  the  rest  of  you  see  that  nobody  gets  near 
him." 

"All  right,"  said  Wainwright,  lifting  the  child  iiv 
his  arms.  "It  will  take  a  good  man  to  get  him  away 
from  me." 

"Where's  Abrams  ?"  I  asked,  noting  that  only  six 
of  my  men  were  at  hand. 

"You  sent  him  forward,"  said  Lockhart. 

"Not  for  all  day." 

"Well,  he  hasn't  been  seen  since  you  told  him  to 
find  out  who's  aboard." 


262  BLINDFOLDED 

I  was  a  little  vexed  at  the  seeming  neglect  of  my 
retainer,  and  as  we  had  come  down  the  rear  stairs  to 
avoid  the  crowd  and  marched  through  the  driveway 
on  the  lower  deck,  I  cast  a  glance  into  the  bar-room 
with  the  expectation  of  finding  him  engaged  in  the 
gentle  art  of  fortifying  his  courage.  But  no  sign  of 
Ithe  missing  man  met  my  eye. 

"It's  no  use  to  wait  for  him,"  I  growled.  "But 
the  next  man  that  takes  French  leave  had  better  look 
somewhere  else  for  a  job,  for  by  the  great  horn 
spoon,  he's  no  man  of  mine." 

We  marched  off  the  boat  in  the  rear  of  the  crowd, 
I  in  no  pleasant  humor,  and  the  men  silent  in  reflec 
tion  of  my  displeasure.  And  with  some  difficulty  we 
found  seats  together  in  a  forward  coach.  I  arranged 
my  men  in  three  seats  on  one  side  of  the  car  and  two 
on  the  other,  Wainwright  taking  the  center  of  the 
three  with  the  boy,  guarded  thus  front  and  rear, 
while  I  sat  opposite  and  one  seat  behind,  where  I 
could  observe  any  attempt  at  interference,  with 
Lockhart  in  front  of  me.  I  judged  that  any  one  who 
tried  to  attack  the  position  would  have  a  lively  five 
minutes  on  his  hands. 

The  train  was  the  east-bound  overland,  and  it 
seemed  hours  before  the  baggage  was  taken  aboard 
and  the  signal  given  to  start.  I  grew  uneasy,  but  as 
my  watch  assured  me  that  only  ten  minutes  had 
passed  when  the  engine  gave  the  first  gentle  pull  at 
the  train,  I  suspected  that  I  was  losing  the  gift  of 
patience. 


TRAILED  263 

The  train  had  not  gathered  headway  before  a  man 
bent  beside  me,  and  Abrams'  voice  spoke  softly  in 
my  ear. 

"There  are  two  of  'em  aboard." 

"Yes?  Where  did  you  find  them?"  I  asked. 

"In  the  stoke  hole.  I  hid  behind  a  bench  till  every 
one  had  gone  and  saw  'em  crawl  out.  They  bribed  a 
fireman  or  deck-hand  or  some  one  to  keep  'em  under 
cover.  They  got  off  the  boat  at  the  last  minute,  and 
I  sneaked  after  'em." 

"And  they're  on  the  train?" 

"Yes,  three  cars  back, — next  to  the  sleepers. 
Shall  we  chuck  'em  overboard  as  soon  as  we  get  out 
of  Oakland?" 

"Not  unless  we  are  attacked,"  I  returned.  "Just 
sit  down  by  the  rear  door  and  give  the  signal  if  they 
come  this  way.  There'll  be  no  trouble  if  they  are 
only  two." 

My  precautions  were  not  called  to  a  test,  and  we 
reached  Livermore  at  near  eleven  o'clock,  without 
further  incident  than  a  report  from  Abrams  that  the 
spies  of  the  enemy  got  off  the  train  at  every  station 
and  watched  for  our  landing.  Yet  when  we  stood 
on  the  platform  of  the  bare  little  station  at  Liver- 
more  and  saw  the  yellow  cars  crawling  away  on 
their  eastward  journey,  we  looked  in  vain  for  the 
men  who  had  tracked  us. 

"Fooled,  by  thunder !"  said  Fitzhugh  with  a  laugh 
in  which  the  others  joined.  "They're  off  for  Sacra* 
mento." 


264  BLINDFOLDED 

"They'll  have  to  earn  their  money  to  find  us 
there/'  said  Abrams. 

The  gray  day  had  become  grayer,  and  the  wind 
blew  fresh  in  our  faces  with  the  smell  of  rain  heavy 
upon  it,  as  we  sought  the  hotel.  It  was  a  bare  coun 
try  place,  yet  trees  grew  by  the  hotel  and  there  were 
vines  climbing  about  its  side,  and  it  looked  as  though 
we  might  be  comfortable  for  a  day,  should  we  have 
to  stay  there  so  long. 

"Plenty  of  room,"  said  the  landlord  rubbing  his 
hands. 

"Are  there  any  letters  here  for  Henry  Wilton?"  I 
inquired,  bethinking  me  that  orders  might  have  been 
sent  me  already. 

"No,  sir." 

"Nor  telegrams  ?" 

"O  Lord,  no,  sir.  We  don't  ha\e  telegrams  here 
unless  somebody's  dead." 

"You  may  give  me  Mr.  Wilton's  mail  if  any 
comes,"  I  said. 

The  landlord  led  the  way  up  the  stairs,  and  be 
guiled  me  by  informing  me  what  a  fine  house  he  had 
and  how  hard  the  times  were. 

"We  wish  a  large  room,  you  know,  where  we  can 
be  together,"  I  said,  "and  sleeping-rooms  adjoin 
ing." 

"Here's  just  the  place  for  you,"  said  the  landlord, 
taking  the  way  to  the  end  of  the  upper  hall  and 
throwing  open  a  double  door.  "This  is  the  up-stairs 
parlor,  but  I  can  let  you  have  it.  There's  this  large 


TRAILED  265 

bedroom  opening  off  it, — the  corner  bedroom,  sir, — 
and  this  small  one  here  at  this  side  opens  into  the 
parlor  and  the  hall.  Perhaps  you  would  like  this 
other  one,  too." 

He  seemed  ready  and  anxious  to  rent  us  the  whole 
house. 

"This  is  enough  for  our  comfort,"  I  assured  him. 

"There'll  be  a  fire  here  in  a  minute/'  said  the  land 
lord,  regarding  the  miserable  little  stove  with  an  eye 
of  satisfaction  that  I  attributed  to  its  economical  pro 
portions. 

"This  is  good  enough,"  said  Lockhart,  looking 
about  approvingly  at  the  prim  horsehair  furniture 
that  gave  an  awesome  dignity  to  the  parlor. 

"Beats  our  quarters  below  all  hollow,"  said  Fitz- 
hugh.  "And  no  need  to  have  your  gun  where  you 
can  grab  it  when  the  first  man  says  boo !" 

"Don't  get  that  idea  into  your  head,"  said  I.  "Just 
be  ready  for  anything  that  comes.  We're  not  out  of 
the  woods  yet,  by  a  long  way." 

"They've  gone  on  to  Sacramento,"  laughed  Fitz- 
hugh ;  and  the  others  nodded  in  sympathy. 

"Indeed  ?"  I  said.  "How  many  of  you  could  have 
missed  seeing  a  party  of  nine  get  off  at  a  way-station 
on  this  line?" 

There  was  silence. 

"If  there's  any  one  here  who  thinks  he  would  have 
missed  us  wrhen  he  was  set  to  look  for  us,  just  let 
him  speak  up,"  I  continued  with  good-humored  rail 
lery. 


266  BLINDFOLDED 

"I  guess  you're  right,"  said  Fitzhugh.  "They 
couldn't  well  have  missed  seeing  us." 

"Exactly.  And  they're  not  off  for  Sacramento, 
and  not  far  from  Livermore." 

"Well,  they're  only  two,"  said  Lockhart. 

"How  long  will  it  take  to  get  a  dozen  more  up 
here?"  I  asked. 

"There's  a  train  to  Niles  about  noon,"  said  one 
of  the  men.  "They  could  get  over  from  there  in  an 
hour  or  two  more  by  hard  riding." 

"The  Los  Angeles  train  comes  through  about 
dark,"  said  another. 

"I  think,  gentlemen,"  said  I  politely,  "that  we'd 
best  look  out  for  our  defenses.  There's  likely  to  be  a 
stormy  evening,  I  should  judge." 

"Well,"  growled  Wainwright,  "we  can  look  out 
for  ourselves  as  well  as  the  next  fellow." 

"If  there's  bloody  crowns  going  round,  the  other 
gang  will  get  its  share,"  said  Fitzhugh.  And  the 
men  about  me  nodded. 

I  was  cheered  to  see  that  they  needed  nobody  to 
do  their  fighting,  however  advisable  it  might  be  to 
do  their  thinking  by  deputy. 

"Very  good,"  I  said.  "Now  I'll  just  look  about 
the  town  a  bit.  You  may  come  with  me,  if  you 
please,  Fitzhugh." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  Abrams  and  Lockhart  may  go  scouting  if 
they  like." 

Abrams  and  Lockhart  thought  they  would  like. 


TRAILED  267 

"Better  keep  together,"  I  continued.  "What's  the 
earliest  time  any  one  could  get  here?" 

"Two  o'clock — if  they  drove  over." 

"I'll  be  around  here  by  that  time.  You,  Abrams, 
can  look  out  for  the  road  and  see  who  comes  into 
town." 

"All  right,  sir,"  said  Abrams.  "There  won't  any 
body  get  in  here  without  I  catch  sight  of  him." 

Lockhart  nodded  his  assent  to  the  boast,  and  after 
cautioning  the  men  who  were  left  behind  we  sallied 
forth. 

The  town  was  a  straggling,  not  unpleasing  coun 
try  place.  The  business  street  was  depressing  with 
its  stores  closed  and  its  saloons  open.  A  few  loafers 
hung  about  the  doors  of  the  dram-shops,  but  the 
moist  breath  of  the  south  wind  eddying  about  with 
its  burden  of  dust  and  dead  leaves  made  indoors  a 
more  comfortable  location,  and  through  the  blue 
haze  of  tobacco  smoke  we  could  see  men  gathered 
inside.  Compared  with  the  dens  I  had  found  about 
my  lodgings  in  the  city,  the  saloons  were  orderly; 
but  nevertheless  they  offended  my  New  England 
sense  of  the  fitness  of  things.  In  the  city  I  had 
scarcely  known  that  there  was  a  Sunday.  But  here 
I  was  reminded,  and  felt  that  something  was  amiss. 

In  the  residence  streets  I  was  better  pleased.  Man 
had  done  little,  but  nature  was  prodigal  to  make  up 
for  his  omissions.  The  buildings  were  poor  and 
flimsy,  but  in  the  middle  of  December  the  flowers 
bloomed,  vines  were  green,  bushes  sent  forth  their 


268  BLINDFOLDED 

leaves,  and  the  beauty  of  the  scene  even  under  the 
leaden  skies  and  rising  gale  made  it  a  delight  to  the 
eye. 

"Not  much  of  a  place,"  said  Fitzhugh,  looking 
disdainfully  at  the  buildings.  "Hello !  Here's  Dick 
Thatcher.  How  are  you,  Dick?  It's  a  year  of  Sun 
days  that  I  haven't  seen  you.  This  is — er — a  friend 
of  mine,  Thatcher, — you  needn't  mention  that  you've 
seen  us."  And  Fitzhugh  stumbled  painfully  over  the 
recollection  that  we  were  incognito,  and  became  si 
lent  in  confusion. 

"We  needn't  be  strangers  to  Mr.  Thatcher,"  I 
laughed.  "My  name  is  Wilton.  Of  course  you  won't 
mention  our  business." 

"Oh,  no,  Mr.  Wilton,"  said  Thatcher,  impressed, 
and  shifting  the  quid  of  tobacco  in  his  lantern  jaws. 
"Of  course  not." 

"And  you  needn't  say  anything  of  our  being  here 
at  all,"  I  continued.  "It  might  spoil  the  trade." 

"Mum's  the  word,"  said  Thatcher.  "I'll  not  let  a 
soul  know  till  you  say  'Let  'er  go.'  O  Lord!  I  hope 
the  trade  goes  through.  We  want  a  lot  more  capital 
here." 

Mr.  Thatcher  began  to  scratch  his  head  and  to  ex 
pectorate  tobacco- juice  copiously,  and  I  suspected  he 
was  wondering  what  the  secret  might  be  that  he  was 
not  to  betray.  So  I  made  haste  to  say : 

"Is  this  stable  yours  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Thatcher  eagerly.  "I've  been  run 
ning  it  nigh  on  two  years  now," 


TRAILED  269 

"Pretty  good  business,  eh,  Dick?"  said  Fitzhugh, 
looking  critically  about. 

"Nothin'  to  brag  on,"  said  Thatcher  disparag 
ingly.  "You  don't  make  a  fortune  running  a  livery 
stable  in  these  parts — times  are  too  hard." 

And  then  Mr.  Thatcher  unbent,  and  between 
periods  of  vigorous  mastication  at  his  cud,  intro 
duced  us  to  his  horses  and  eagerly  explained  the  ad 
vantages  that  his  stable  possessed  over  any  other  this 
side  of  Oakland. 

"Very  good,"  I  said.  "We  may  want  something 
in  your  line  later.  We  can  find  you  here  at  any  time, 
I  suppose." 

"O  Lord,  yes.  I  live  here  days  and  sleep  here 
nights.  But  if  you  want  to  take  a  look  at  the  prop 
erty  before  it  gets  a  wetting  you'll  have  to  be  pretty 
spry." 

My  suggestion  of  a  trade  had  misled  the  worthy 
stableman  into  the  impression  that  I  was  consider 
ing  the  purchase  of  real  estate. 

"I'll  see  about  it,"  I  said. 

"There's  a  big  rain  coming  on,  sure,"  he  said 
warningly,  as  we  turned  back  to  the  hoteL 

It  was  a  little  after  one  o'clock,  but  as  «we  ap 
proached  our  quarters  Lockhart  came  running  to 
ward  me. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked,  as  he  panted,  out  of  breath. 

"There's  a  special  train  just  come  in,"  he  said; 
"an  engine  and  one  car.  It's  at  the  station  now." 

"So  ?  Did  any  of  our  friends  come  on  it  ?" 


270  BLINDFOLDED 

"Abrams  has  gone  down  to  find  out." 

"Come  along  then,"  said  I.  "We'll  see  what  is  to 
be  seen." 

"Don't!"  cried  Fitzhugh,  catching  my  arm. 
"They  might  get  you." 

"Nonsense,"  said  I,  shaking  off  his  grasp.  "Have 
'your  revolver  ready,  and  follow  me." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

A   PIECE   OF    STRATEGY 

A  few  idlers  were  on  the  platform  of  the  station 
as  we  approached  with  much  apparent  unconcern, 
our  hands  in  our  overcoat  pockets  where  the  weapons 
lay. 

"Where's  the  train?"  I  asked,  looking  at  the  bare 
track. 

"Yonder,"  grunted  a  native,  pointing  his  thumb 
lazily  up  the  road  where  the  engine  lay  by  the  water 
ing  tank,  slaking  its  thirst. 

"Well,  just  let  me  and  Lockhart  walk  ahead," 
said  Fitzhugh  gruffly,  as  we  started  along  the  track. 
"I  shouldn't  have  the  first  idea  what  we  was  here  for 
if  you  was  to  be  knocked  over." 

Fitzhugh  could  not  be  much  more  in  the  dark  on 
this  point  than  I,  but  I  let  him  have  his  way.  If  some 
one  was  to  be  shot,  I  was  ready  to  resign  my  claim 
to  the  distinction  in  favor  of  the  first  comer. 

There  were  perhaps  a  score  of  people  about  the 
car. 

"There's  Abrams,"  said  Lockhart. 

"There's  no  danger,  then,"  said  Fitzhugh  with  a 
grin.  "See,  he's  beckoning  to  us." 

271 


272  BLINDFOLDED 

We  hastened  forward  eagerly. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked. 

"There's  no  one  here,"  said  Abrams,  with  a  puz 
zled  look. 

"Well,  this  car  didn't  come  alone,"  I  returned. 
"Have  you  asked  the  engineer?" 

"Yes." 

"And  the  fireman?" 

"Yes." 

"And  they  say—" 

"That  it's  against  the  rules  to  talk." 

"Nonsense;  I'll  see  them  myself."  And  I  went 
forward  to  the  engine. 

The  engineer  was  as  close-mouthed  as  though 
words  were  going  at  a  dollar  apiece  and  the  market 
bounding  upwrard.  He  declined  dinner,  could  not  be 
induced  to  come  and  take  a  drink,  and  all  that  could 
be  got  out  of  him  was  that  he  was  going  back  to 
Niles,  where  he  would  stop  until  he  got  orders  from 
the  superintendent. 

When  I  tried  to  question  the  fireman,  the  engineer 
recovered  his  tongue,  and  had  so  many  orders  to  be 
attended  to  that  my  words  were  lost  in  a  rattle  of 
coal  and  clang  of  iron. 

And  the  engine,  having  drunk  its  fill,  changed  its 
labored  breathing  to  a  hissing  and  swishing  of  stearn 
that  sent  the  hot  vapor  far  on  both  sides,  and  then 
gathering  speed,  puffed  its  swift  way  back  the  road 
by  which  it  had  come,  leaving  the  car  deserted  on  a 
siding. 


A   PIECE   OF    STRATEGY         273 

"Here's  a  go !"  cried  Fitzhugh.  "A  regular  puz 
zler!" 

"Guess  it's  none  of  the  gang,  after  all,"  said  Lock- 
hart. 

Abrams  shook  his  head. 

"Don't  you  fool  yourself,"  he  said.  "They've 
landed  below  here,  and  maybe  they're  in  town  while 
we've  got  our  mouths  open,  fly-catching  around  an 
empty  car." 

"Good  boy,  Abrams,"  I  said.  "My  opinion  ex 
actly." 

"And  what's  to  be  done,  then?"  he  asked  anx 
iously. 

"For  the  first  thing,  to  visit  the  telegraph  office  at 
once." 

The  operator  was  just  locking  his  little  room  in 
the  station  as  we  came  up. 

"No,  sir,  no  telegrams,"  he  said;  "none  for  any 
body." 

"This  is  a  new  way  of  running  trains,"  I  said  with 
a  show  of  indifference,  nodding  toward  the  empty 
car. 

"Oh,  there  was  a  party  came  up,"  said  the  agent ; 
"a  dozen  fellows  or  more.  Bill  said  they  took  a  fancy 
to  get  off  a  mile  or  more  down  here,  and  as  they 
were  an  ugly-looking  crew  he  didn't  say  anything  to 
stop  them." 

"I  don't  see  what  they  can  be  doing  up  in  this  part 
of  the  country,"  I  returned  innocently. 

"I  guess  they  know  their  business — anyway,  it's 


274  BLINDFOLDED 

none  of  mine/'  said  the  agent.  "Do  you  go  in  here, 
sir?  Well,  it  will  save  you  from  a  wetting." 

We  had  been  walking  toward  the  hotel,  and  the 
chatty  agent  left  us  under  its  veranda  just  as  the 
light  drops  began  to  patter  down  in  the  dust  of  the 
road,  and  to  dim  the  outlines  of  the  distant  hills. 

"I  reckon  that's  the  gang,"  said  Fitzhugh. 

"I  told  you  so,"  said  Abrams.  "I  knew  it  was  one 
of  Tom  Terrill's  sneaky  tricks." 

"Shall  we  take  a  look  for  'em?"  asked  Lockhart. 

"There's  no  need,"  I  replied. 

The  home  guard  of  our  party  received  the  news 
calmly. 

Wainwright  had  established  a  modus  Vivendi  with 
his  young  charge,  and  I  saw  that  he  managed  to  get 
a  word  out  of  him  now  and  then.  I  had  to  abandon 
the  theory  that  the  boy  was  dumb,  but  I  suspected 
that  it  was  fear  rather  than  discretion  that  bridled 
his  tongue. 

"Do  you  think  the  gang  have  got  into  town?" 
asked  one. 

"They'll  have  wet  jackets  if  they  are  on  the  road," 
I  returned,  looking  at  the  rain  outside. 

"Hadn't  we  better  find  out?"  inquired  Wain 
wright. 

"Are  you  in  a  hurry?"  I  asked  in  turn.  "The 
landlord  has  promised  to  send  up  a  good  dinner  in 
a  few  minutes." 

"But  you  see—" 

"Yes,  I  see,"  I  interrupted.  "I  see  this— that  they 


A   PIECE   OF    STRATEGY        275 

are  here,  that  there  are  a  dozen  or  more  of  them, 
and  that  they  are  ready  for  any  deviltry.  What  more 
can  we  find  out  by  roaming  over  the  country  ?" 

Wainwright  nodded  his  agreement  with  me. 

"And  then,"  I  continued,  "they  won't  try  to  do 
anything  until  after  dark — not  before  the  middle  of 
the  night,  I  should  say — or  until  the  townspeople 
have  gone  to  bed." 

"You're  right,  sir,"  said  Abrams.  "A  dark  night 
and  a  clear  field  suits  that  gang  best." 

"Well,  here's  the  dinner,"  said  I;  "so  you  can 
make  yourselves  easy.  Porter,  you  may  keep  an  eye 
on  the  stairway,  and  Brown  may  watch  from  the 
windows.  The  rest  of  us  will  fall  to." 

In  the  midst  of  the  meal  Porter  came  in. 

"Darby  Meeker's  in  the  office  below,"  he  an 
nounced. 

"Very  good,"  I  said.  "Just  take  Fitzhugh  and 
Wilson  with  you,  and  ask  Mr.  Meeker  to  join  us." 

The  men  looked  blank.  Porter  was  the  first  to 
speak. 

"You  don't  mean — " 

"I  mean  to  bring  him  up  here,"  I  said  blandly,  ris 
ing  from  the  table.  "I  suppose,  though,  it's  my  place 
as  host  to  do  the  honors." 

"No — no,"  came  in  chorus  from  the  men. 

"Come  on,  Porter — Fitzhugh — Wilson,"  I  said; 
and  then  added  sharply,  "sit  down,  the  rest  of  you ! 
We  don't  need  a  regiment  to  ask  a  man  to  dinner." 

The  others  sank  back  into  their  seats,  and  the 


276  BLINDFOLDED 

three  I  had  named  followed  me  meekly  down  the 
hall  and  stairs. 

I  had  never  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Mr. 

Meeker  face  to  face,  but  I  doubted  not  that  I  should 

be  able  to  pick  him  out.    I  was  right.    I  knew  him 

,the  moment  I  saw  him.    He  was  tall  and  broad  of 

I  shoulder,  long  of  arm,  shifty  of  eye,  and  his  square 

jaw  was  covered  with   a  stubby  red  beard.    His 

color  heightened  as  we  walked  into  the  office  and  cut 

off  the  two  doors  of  retreat. 

"An  unexpected  pleasure,"  I  said,  giving  him 
good  day. 

His  hand  slipped  to  the  side  pocket  of  his  sack 
coat,  and  then  back  again,  and  he  made  a  remark 
in  an  undertone  that  I  fear  was  not  intended  for  a 
pleasant  greeting., 

"There's  a  little  dinner  of  a  few  friends  going  on 
tip  stairs,"  I  said  politely.  "Won't  you  join  us?" 

Meeker  scowled  a  moment  with  evident  surprise. 

"No,  I  won't,"  he  growled. 

"But  it  is  a  sad  case  for  a  man  to  dine  alone,"  I 
said  smoothly.  "You  will  be  very  welcome." 

"No,  sir,"  said  he,  looking  furtively  at  my  men 
,  drawing  near,  between  him  and  the  doors. 

"But  I  insist,"  I  said  politely.  Then  I  added  in  a 
lower  tone  meant  for  him  alone :  "Resist,  you  hound, 
and  I'll  have  you  carried  up  by  your  four  legs." 

His  face  was  working  with  fear  and  passion.  He 
looked  at  the  blocked  way  with  the  eye  of  a  baited 
animal. 


A   PIECE   OF    STRATEGY        277 

"I'll  be  damned  first!"  he  cried.  And  seizing  a 
chair  he  whirled  around,  dashed  it  through  a  win 
dow,  and  leaped  through  the  jagged  panes  before 
I  could  spring  forward  to  stop  him. 

"Round  in  front,  men!"  I  cried,  motioning  my 
followers  to  sally  through  the  door.  "Bring  him 
back!"  And  an  instant  later  I  leaped  through  the 
window  after  the  flying  enemy. 

There  was  a  fall  of  six  feet,  and  as  I  landed  on  a 
pile  of  broken  glass,  a  bit  shaken,  with  the  rain  beat 
ing  on  my  head,  it  was  a  few  seconds  before  I  re 
covered  my  wits.  When  I  looked,  no  one  was  in 
sight.  I  heard  the  men  running  on  the  porch  of  the 
hotel,  so  the  enemy  was  not  to  be  sought  that  way. 
I  set  off  full  speed  for  the  other  corner,  fifty  yards 
away,  half  suspecting  an  ambush.  But  at  the  turn 
I  stopped.  The  rain-soaked  street  was  empty  for  a 
block  before  me.  Far  down  the  next  block  a  plod 
ding  figure  under  an  umbrella  bent  to  the  gusts  of 
the  wind  and  tried  to  ward  off  the  driving  spray  of 
the  storm.  But  Darby  Meeker  had  disappeared  as 
though  the  earth  had  swallowed  him  up. 

"Where  is  he?"  cried  Porter,  the  first  of  my  men 
to  reach  my  side. 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders.   "I  haven't  seen  him." 

"He  didn't  come  our  way — that  I'll  swear," 
panted  Fitzhugh. 

"He  was  out  of  sight  before  I  got  my  feet,"  said 
I.  "They  must  have  a  hiding-place  close  by." 

"He  must  have  jumped  the  fence  here,"  said  Wil- 


278  BLINDFOLDED 

son,  pointing  to  a  cottage  just  beyond  the  hotel's 
back  yard.  "I'll  see  about  it."  And  he  vaulted  the 
pickets  and  looked  about  the  place. 

He  was  back  in  a  minute  with  a  shake  of  the  head. 

"Well,  it's  no  great  matter,"  I  said.  "We  can  get 
along  without  another  guest  for  the  afternoon.  Now 
get  under  cover,  boys,  or  you'll  be  soaked  through." 

The  landlord  met  us  with  an  air  half-anxious, 
half-angry. 

"I'd  like  to  know  who's  to  pay  for  this !"  he  cried. 
"There's  a  sash  and  four  panes  of  glass  gone  to 
smithereens." 

"The  gentleman  who  just  went  out  will  be  glad  to 
pay  for  it,  if  you'll  call  it  to  his  attention,"  I  said 
blandly. 

"I'll  have  the  law  on  him !"  shouted  the  landlord, 
getting  red  in  the  face.  "And  if  he's  a  friend  of 
yours  you'd  better  settle  for  him,  or  it  will  be  the 
worse  for  him." 

"I'm  afraid  he  isn't  a  friend  of  mine,"  I  said 
dubiously.  "He  didn't  appear  to  take  that  view  of 
it." 

"That's  so,"  admitted  the  landlord.  "But  I  don't 
know  his  name,  and  somebody's  got  to  settle  for  that 
glass." 

I  obliged  the  landlord  with  Mr.  Meeker's  name, 
and  with  the  bestowal  of  this  poor  satisfaction  re 
turned  to  the  interrupted  meal. 

"Well,  I  reckon  he  wouldn't  have  been  very  pleas 
ant  company  if  you'd  got  him,"  said  one  of  the  men 


A    PIECE    OF    STRATEGY        279 

consolingly,  when  we  had  told  our  tale  of  the  search 
for  a  guest. 

"  I  suspect  he  would  be  less  disagreeable  in  here 
than  out  with  his  gang,"  I  returned  dryly,  and  turned 
the  subject.  I  did  not  care  to  discuss  my  plan  to  get 
a  hostage  now  that  it  had  failed. 

The  gray  day  plashed  slowly  toward  nightfall. 
The  rain  fell  by  fits  and  starts,  now  with  a  sudden 
dash,  now  gently  as  though  it  were  only  of  half  a 
mind  to  fall  at  all.  But  the  wind  blew  strong,  and 
the  clouds  that  drove  up  from  the  far  south  were 
dark  enough  to  have  borne  tthreats  of  a  coming 
deluge. 

As  the  time  wore  on  I  suspected  that  my  men 
grew  uneasy,  wondering  what  we  were  there  for, 
and  why  I  did  not  make  some  move.  Then  I  re 
flected  that  this  could  not  be.  It  was  I  who  was  won 
dering.  The  men  were  accustomed  to  let  me  do 
their  thinking  for  them,  and  could  be  troubled  no 
more  here  than  in  San  Francisco.  But  what  was  I  ex 
pected  to  do  ?  Where  could  my  orders  be  ?  Had  they 
gone  astray?  Had  the  plans  of  the  Unknown  come 
to  disaster  through  the  difficulty  of  getting  the  tele 
graph  on  Sunday?  The  office  here  was  closed.  The 
Unknown,  being  a  woman,  I  ungallantly  reflected, 
would  have  neglected  to  take  so  small  a  circumstance 
into  consideration,  and  she  might  even  now  be  be 
sieging  the  telegraph  office  in  San  Francisco  in  a 
vain  effort  to  get  word  to  Livermore. 

On  this  thought  I  bestirred  myself,  and  after  much 


23o  BLINDFOLDED 

trouble  had  speech  with  the  young  man  who  com 
bined  in  his  person  the  offices  of  telegraph  operator, 
station  master,  ticket  seller,  freight  agent  and  bag 
gage  handler  for  the  place.  He  objected  to  open 
ing  the  office  "out  of  office  hours." 

"There  might  be  inducements  discovered  that 
would  make  it  worth  your  while,  I  suppose?"  I  said, 
jingling  some  silver  carelessly  in  my  pocket. 

He  smiled. 

"Well,  I  don't  care  if  I  do,"  he  replied.  "Whatever 
you  think  is  fair,  of  course." 

It  was  more  than  I  thought  fair,  but  the  agent 
thawed  into  friendship  at  once,  and  expressed  his 
readiness  to  "call  San  Francisco"  till  he  got  an  an 
swer  if  it  took  till  dark. 

I  might  have  saved  my  trouble  and  my  coin.  San 
Francisco  replied  with  some  emphasis  that  there  was 
nothing  for  me,  and  never  had  been,  and  who  was 
I,  anyhow? 

There  was  nothing  to  be  done.  I  must  possess  my 
soul  in  patience  in  the  belief  that  the  Unknown  knew 
what  she  was  about  and  that  I  should  get  my  orders 
in  due  time — probably  after  nightfall,  when  dark 
ness  would  cover  any  necessary  movement. 

But  if  I  could  shift  the  worry  and  responsibility 
of  the  present  situation  on  the  Unknown,  there  was 
another  trouble  that  loomed  larger  and  more  per 
plexing  before  my  mind  with  each  passing  hour. 
If  the  mission  of  to-day  were  prolonged  into  the  mor 
row,  what  was  to  become  of  the  Omega  deal,  and 


A    PIECE   OF    STRATEGY        281 

where  would  Doddridge  Knapp's  plans  of  fortune  be 
found?  I  smiled  to  think  that  I  should  concern  my 
self  with  this  question  when  I  knew  that  Doddridge 
Knapp's  men  were  waiting  and  watching  for  my 
first  movement  with  orders  that  probably  did  not 
stop  at  murder  itself.  Yet  my  trouble  of  mind  in 
creased  with  the  passing  time  as  I  vainly  endeavored 
to  devise  some  plan  to  meet  the  difficulty  that  had 
been  made  for  me. 

But  as  I  saw  no  way  to  straighten  out  this  tangle, 
I  turned  my  attention  to  the  boy  in  the  hope  of 
getting  from  him  some  information  that  might  throw 
light  on  the  situation. 

"He's  as  shy  as  a  young  quail/'  said  Wainwright, 
when  my  advances  were  received  in  stubborn  silence. 

"You  seem  to  be  getting  along  pretty  well  with 
him/'  T  suggested. 

"Yes,  sir;  he'll  talk  a  bit  with  me,  but  he's  as 
close-mouthed  a  chap  as  you'll  find  in  the  state,  sir, 
unless  it's  one  of  them  deef  and  dummies." 

I  made  another  unsuccessful  attempt  to  cultivate 
the  acquaintance  of  my  charge. 

"You've  got  a  day's  job  before  you  if  you  get  him 
to  open  his  head,"  said  Wainwright,  amused  at  the 
failure  of  my  efforts  as  an  infant-charmer. 

"What  has  he  been  talking  about?"  I  inquired, 
somewhat  disgusted. 

"The  train,"  chuckled  Wainwright.  "Blamed  if 
I  think  he's  seen  anything  else  since  he  started." 

"The  train?" 


282  BLINDFOLDED 

"Yes;  the  one  we  come  on.  He's  been  talking 
about  it,  and  wondering  what  I'd  do  with  it  and  with 
out  it  till  I  reckon  \ve've  covered  pretty  near  every 
thing  that  could  happen  to  a  fellow  with  a  train  or 
without  one." 

"Is  that  the  only  subject  of  interest?" 

"Well,  he  did  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  the  milk  was 
different  here,  and  that  he  wanted  a  kind  of  cake  we 
didn't  get  at  dinner." 

I  attacked  the  young  man  on  his  weak  point,  and 
got  some  brief  answers  in  reply  to  my  remarks  on  the 
attractiveness  of  locomotives  and  the  virtues  of  cars. 
But  as  any  venture  away  from  the  important  subject 
was  met  with  the  silence  of  the  clam,  I  had  at  last 
to  give  up  with  a  wild  desire  to  shake  the  young  man 
until  some  more  satisfactory  idea  should  come  upper 
most. 

As  darkness  came  on,  the  apprehensions  of  danger 
which  had  made  no  impression  on  me  by  daylight, 
began  to  settle  strongly  on  my  spirits.  The  wind 
that  dashed  the  rain-drops  in  gusts  on  the  panes 
Deemed  to  whistle  a  warning,  and  the  splash  of  the 
water  outside  was  as  the  muttering  of  a  tale  of 
melancholy  in  an  unknown  tongue. 

I  concealed  my  fears  and  depressions  from  the 
men,  and  with  the  lighting  of  the  lamps  made  my 
dispositions  to  meet  any  attack  that  might  come.  I 
had  satisfied  myself  that  the  rear  bedroom,  that 
faced  the  south,  could  not  be  entered  from  the  out 
side  without  the  aid  of  ladders.  The  parlor  showed 


A   PIECE   OF    STRATEGY        283 

a  sheer  drop  to  the  street  on  the  west,  and  I  felt 
assured  we  were  safe  on  that  side.  But  the  front 
windows  of  the  parlor,  and  the  front  bedroom  which 
joined  it,  opened  on  the  veranda  roof  in  common 
with  a  dozen  other  rooms.  Inside,  the  hallway,  per 
haps  eight  feet  wide  and  twenty-five  feet  long,  of 
fered  the  only  approach  to  our  rooms  from  the 
stairs.  The  situation  was  not  good  for  defense,  and 
at  the  thought  I  had  a  mind  even  then  to  seek  other 
quarters. 

It  was  too  late  for  such  a  move,  however,  and  I 
decided  to  make  the  best  of  the  position.  I  placed 
the  boy  in  the  south  bedroom,  which  could  be  reached 
only  through  the  parlor.  With  him  I  placed  Wain- 
wright  and  Fitzhugh,  the  two  strongest  men  of  the 
party.  The  north  bedroom,  opening  on  the  hall 
way,  the  veranda  roof  and  the  parlor,  looked  to  be 
the  weakest  part  of  my  position,  but  I  thought  it 
might  be  used  to  advantage  as  a  post  of  observation. 
The  windows  were  guarded  with  shutters  of  no 
great  strength.  We  closed  and  secured  those  of  the 
parlor  and  the  inner  bedroom  as  well  as  possible. 
Those  of  the  north  bedroom  I  left  open.  By  leaving 
the  room  dark  it  would  be  easy  for  a  sentinel  to  get 
warning  of  an  assault  by  way  of  the  veranda  roof. 
I  stationed  Porter  in  the  hall,  and  Abrams  in  the 
dark  bedroom,  while  Lockhart,  Wilson,  Brown  and 
I  held  the  parlor  and  made  ourselves  comfortable 
until  the  time  should  come  to  relieve  the  men  on 
guard. 


284  BLINDFOLDED 

One  by  one  the  lights  that  could  be  seen  here  and 
there  through  the  town  disappeared,  the  sounds  from 
the  streets  and  the  other  parts  of  the  house  came 
more  infrequently  and  at  last  were  smothered  in  si 
lence,  and  only  darkness  and  the  storm  remained. 
,  I  thrust  open  the  door  to  the  bedroom  to  see  that 
the  boy  and  his  guards  were  safe,  and  this  done  I 
turned  down  the  light,  threw  myself  on  the  floor 
before  the  door  that  protected  my  charge,  and 
mused  over  the  strange  events  that  had  crowded  so 
swiftly  upon  me. 

Subtle  warnings  of  danger  floated  over  my 
senses  between  sleeping  and  waking,  and  each  time 
I  dropped  into  a  doze  I  awoke  with  a  start,  to  see 
only  the  dimly-lighted  forms  of  my  men  before  me, 
and  to  hear  only  the  sweep  and  whistle  of  the  wind 
outside  and  the  dash  of  water  against  the  shutters. 
Thrice  I  had  been  aroused  thus,  when,  on  the  border 
land  between  dreams  and  waking,  a  voice  reached 
my  ear. 

"S-s-t!   What  was  that?" 

I  sprang  up,  wide-awake,  revolver  in  hand.  It 
was  Lockhart  who  spoke.  We  all  strained  our  ears 
to  listen.  There  was  nothing  to  be  heard  but  the 
moan  of  the  wind  and  the  dash  of  water. 

"What  was  it?"  I  whispered. 

"I  don't  know." 

"I  heard  nothing." 

"It  was  a  coo-hoo — like  the  call  of  an  owl,  but — " 

"But  you  thought  it  was  a  man  ?" 


A    PIECE   OF    STRATEGY        285 

Lockhart  nodded.  Brown  and  Wilson  had  riot 
heard  it. 

"Was  it  inside  or  outside?" 

"It  was  out  here,  I  thought,"  said  Lockhart  doubt 
fully,  pointing  to  the  street  that  ran  by  the  side  of 
the  hotel. 

I  opened  the  door  to  the  dark  bedroom  in  which 
Abrams  kept  watch.  It  swung  noiselessly  to  my 
cautious  touch.  For  a  moment  I  could  see  nothing 
of  my  henchman,  but  the  window  was  open.  Then, 
in  the  obscurity,  I  thought  I  discovered  his  body 
lying  half-way  across  the  window-sill.  I  waited  for 
him  to  finish  his  observations  on  the  weather,  but 
as  he  made  no  move  I  was  struck  with  the  fear  that 
he  had  met  foul  play  and  touched  him  lightly. 

In  a  flash  he  had  turned  on  me,  and  I  felt  the  muz 
zle  of  a  revolver  pressing  against  my  side. 

"If  you  wouldn't  mind  turning  that  gun  the  other 
way,  it  would  suit  me  just  as  well,"  I  said. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  is  it?"  said  Abrams  with  a  gulp.  "I 
thought  Darby  Meeker  and  his  gang  was  at  my 
back,  sure." 

"Did  you  hear  anything?"  I  asked. 

"Yes;  there  was  a  call  out  here  a  bit  ago.  And 
there's  half  a  dozen  men  or  more  out  there  now — 
right  at  the  corner." 

"Are  you  sure?" 

"Yes ;  I  was  a-listening  to  'em  when  you  give  me 
such  a  start." 

"What  were  they  saying?" 


286  BLINDFOLDED 

"I  couldn't  hear  a  word." 

"Give  warning  at  the  first  move  to  get  into  the 
house.  Blaze  away  with  your  gun  if  anybody  tries 
to  climb  on  to  the  porch." 

Porter  had  heard  nothing,  but  was  wide  awake, 
watching  by  the  light  of  the  lamp  that  hung  at  the 
head  of  the  stairway.  And  after  a  caution  to  vigi 
lance  I  returned  to  my  chair. 

For  half  an  hour  I  listened  closely.  The  men  were 
open-eyed  but  silent.  The  storm  kept  up  its  mourn 
ful  murmur,  but  no  sound  that  I  could  attribute  to 
man  came  to  my  straining  ears. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  cry  from  the  hall. 

"Who's  there?"   It  was  Porter's  voice. 

An  instant  later  there  was  a  crash  of  glass,  an  ex 
plosion  seemed  to  shake  the  house,  and  there  was 
a  rush  of  many  feet. 

I  leaped  to  the  door  and  flung  it  open,  Lockhart, 
Wilson  and  Brown  crowding  close  behind  me.  A 
body  of  men  filled  the  hallway,  and  Porter  was  strug 
gling  in  the  hands  of  three  ruffians.  His  revolver, 
whose  shot  we  had  heard,  had  been  knocked  from 
his  hand  and  lay  on  the  floor. 

The  sudden  appearance  of  four  more  weapons  in 
the  open  doorway  startled  the  enemy  into  pausing 
for  a  moment.  I  sprang  forward  and  gave  the  near 
est  of  Porter's  assailants  a  blow  that  sent  him  stag 
gering  into  the  midst  of  his  band,  and  with  a.  wrench 
Porter  tore  himself  loose  from  the  other  two  and  was 
with  us  again. 


A   PIECE   OF    STRATEGY        287 

"What  does  this  mean?"  I  cried  angrily  to  the  in 
vaders.  "What  are  you  here  for?" 

There  were  perhaps  a  dozen  of  them  altogether, 
and  in  the  midst  of  the  band  I  saw  the  evil  face  and 
snake-eyes  of  Tom  Terrill.  At  the  sight  of  his  re 
pulsive  features  I  could  scarce  refrain  from  sending 
a  bullet  in  his  direction. 

Darby  Meeker  growled  an  answer. 

"You  know  what  we're  here  for." 

"You  have  broken  into  a  respectable  house  like  a 
band  of  robbers,"  I  cried.  "What  do  you  want?" 

"'You  know  what  we  want,  Mr.  Wilton,"  was  the 
surly  answer.  "Give  us  the  boy  and  we  won't  touch 
you." 

"And  if  not?" 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  moments. 

"What  are  you  waiting  for?"  growled  a  voice 
from  beyond  the  turn  of  the  hall. 

At  the  sound  I  thrilled  to  the  inmost  fiber.  Was 
it  not  the  growl  of  the  Wolf?  Could  I  be  mistaken  in 
those  tones?  I  listened  eagerly  for  another  word 
that  might  put  it  beyond  doubt. 

"Well,  are  you  going  to  give  him  up?"  asked  the 
hoarse  voice  of  Meeker. 

"There  has  got  to  be  some  better  reason  for  it 
than  your  demand,"  I  suggested. 

"Well,  we've  got  reasons  enough  here.  Stand 
ready,  boys." 

"Look  out!"  I  said  to  my  men,  with  a  glance  be 
hind. 


288  BLINDFOLDED 

As  I  turned  I  saw  without  noting  it  that  Wain- 
wright  and  Fitzhugh  had  come  out  of  the  boy's  room 
to  take  a  hand  in  the  impending  trouble.  Lockhart 
and  Wilson  slipped  in  front  of  me. 

"Get  back  and  look  after  the  boy,"  whispered  the 
former.  "We  can  hold  'em  here." 

"Move  ahead  there!"  shouted  a  fierce  voice  that 
again  thrilled  the  ear  and  heart  with  the  growl  of  the 
Wolf.  "What  are  you  afraid  of?" 

"Stand  fast,  boys,"  I  said  to  my  men.  "Wain- 
wright,  keep  close  to  the  bedroom."  Then  I  shouted 
defiance  to  the  enemy.  "The  first  man  that  moves 
forward  gets  killed !  There  are  eight  revolvers  here." 

Then  I  saw  that  Wainwright  had  come  forward, 
despite  my  bidding,  eager  to  take  his  share  of  the  on 
slaught.  And  by  some  freak  of  the  spirit  of  the  per 
verse  the  boy,  who  had  shown  himself  so  timid  dur 
ing  the  day,  had  now  slipped  out  of  his  room  and 
climbed  upon  a  chair  to  see  what  the  excitement 
was  about,  as  though  danger  and  death  were  the  last 
things  in  the  world  with  which  he  had  to  reckon. 

I  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  form  out  of  the  tail  of 
my  eye  as  he  mounted  the  chair  in  his  night-dress. 
I  turned  with  an  exclamation  to  Wainwright  and 
was  leaping  to  cover  him  from  a  possible  bullet, 
when  there  was  a  roar  of  rage  and  the  voice  of  Ter- 
rill  rang  through  the  hall : 

"Tricked  again!"  he  cried  with  a  dreadful  oath, 
"It's  the  wrong  boy!" 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

ON  THE  ROAD 

The  wrong  boy! 

For  a  moment  I  could  not  understand  nor  believe ; 
and  when  the  meaning  of  the  words  came  to  me,  I 
groped  in  mental  darkness,  unable  to  come  in  touch 
with  the  significant  facts  by  which  I  was  surrounded. 
The  solid  earth  had  fallen  from  under  me,  and  I 
struggled  vainly  to  get  footing  in  my  new  posi 
tion. 

But  there  was  no  time  for  speculation.  Half  in  a 
daze  I  heard  a  roar  of  curses,  orders,  a  crash  of 
glass  as  the  lamp  was  extinguished,  and  over  all  came 
the  prolonged  growl  of  a  wolf-voice,  hoarse  and 
shaken  with  anger.  There  was  a  vision  of  a  wolf- 
head  rising  above  the  outline  of  faces  a  few  yards 
away,  dark,  distorted,  fierce,  with  eyes  that  blazed 
threats,  and  in  an  instant  I  found  myself  in  the 
center  of  a  struggling,  shouting,  swearing  mass  of 
savage  men,  fighting  with  naught  but  the  instinct 
of  blind  rage.  Shots  were  fired,  but  for  the  most 
part  it  was  a  hand-to-hand  struggle.  The  clearest 
picture  that  comes  to  me  out  of  the  confused  tangle 
is  that  of  Wainwright  handling  his  pistol  like  3 

289 


29o  BLINDFOLDED 

bowie  knife,  and  trying  to  perform  a  surgical  opera 
tion  extensive  enough  to  let  a  joke  into  Darby  Meek- 
er's  skull. 

I  doubt  not  that  I  was  as  crazy  as  the  rest.  The 
berserker  rage  was  on  me,  and  I  struck  right  and  left. 
But  in  my  madness  there  was  one  idea  strong  in  my 
mind.  It  was  to  reach  the  evil  face  and  snake-eyes 
of  Tom  Terrill,  and  stamp  the  life  out  of  him.  With 
desperate  rage  I  shouldered  and  fought  till  his  white 
face  with  its  venomous  hatred  was  next  to  mine,  till 
the  fingers  of  my  left  hand  gripped  his  throat,  and 
my  right  hand  tried  to  beat  out  his  brains  with  a  six- 
shooter. 

"Damn  you!"  he  gasped,  striking  fiercely  at  me. 
"I've  been  waiting  for  you!" 

I  tightened  my  grip  and  spoke  no  word.  He 
writhed  and  turned,  striving  to  free  himself.  I  had 
knocked  his  revolver  from  his  hand,  and  he  tried 
in  vain  to  reach  it.  My  grip  was  strong  with  the 
strength  of  madness,  and  the  white  face  before  me 
grew  whiter  except  where  a  smear  of  blood  closed 
the  left  eye  and  trickled  down  over  the  cheek  be 
neath.  A  trace  of  fear  stole  into  the  venomous  anger 
of  the  one  eye  that  was  unobscured,  as  he  strove 
without  success  to  guard  himself  from  my  blows. 
But  he  gave  a  sudden  thrust,  and  with  a  sinuous 
writhe  he  was  free,  while  I  was  carried  back  by  the 
rush  of  men  with  the  vague  impression  that  some 
thing  was  amiss  with  me.  Then  a  great  light  flamed 
up  before  me  in  which  the  struggling,  shouting  mob, 


ONTHEROAD  291 

the  close  hall  and  room,  and  the  universe  itself  melted 
away,  and  I  was  alone. 

The  next  impression  that  came  to  me  was  that  of  a 
voice  from  an  immeasurable  distance. 

"He's  coming  to,"  it  said;  and  then  beside  it  I 
heard  a  strange  wailing  cry. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked,  trying  to  sit  up.  My  voice 
seemed  to  come  from  miles  away,  and  to  belong  to 
some  other  man. 

"That's  it,  you're  all  right,"  said  the  voice  en 
couragingly,  and  about  the  half  of  Niagara  fell  on 
my  face. 

I  sat  up  and  beheld  the  room  whirling  about,  the 
walls,  the  furniture,  and  the  people  dancing  madly 
together  to  a  strange  wailing  sound  that  carried  me 
back  to  the  dens  of  Chinatown.  Then  the  mists  be 
fore  my  eyes  cleared  away,  and  I  found  that  I  was 
on  the  floor  of  the  inner  bedroom  and  Wainwright 
had  emptied  a  water- jug  over  me.  The  light  of  a 
small  kerosene  lamp  gave  a  gloomy  illumination  to 
the  place.  Lockhart  and  Fitzhugh  leaned  against 
the  door,  and  Wilson  bent  with  Wainwright  over 
me.  The  boy  was  sitting  on  the  bed,  crying  shrilly 
over  the  melancholy  situation. 

I  tried  to  stagger  to  my  feet. 

"Wait  a  bit,"  said  Wainwright.  "You'll  get  your 
head  in  a  minute." 

I  felt  acutely  conscious  already  that  I  had  my 
head.  It  seemed  a  very  large  head  that  had  suffered 
from  an  internal  explosion. 


292  BLINDFOLDED 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked,  gathering  my  scattered 
wits.  "What  has  happened?" 

"We've  been  licked/'  said  Wainwright  regretfully. 
"The  rest  of  the  boys  got  took,  but  we  got  in  here. 
Fitz  and  me  seen  the  nasty  knock  you  got,  and 
dragged  you  back,  and  when  we  got  you  here  the 
parlor  was  full  of  the  hounds,  and  Porter  and 
Abrams  and  Brown  was  missing.  We  found  you 
was  cut,  and  we've  tried  to  fix  you  up." 

I  looked  at  my  bandaged  arm,  and  put  one  more 
count  in  the  indictment  against  Terrill.  He  had  tried 
to  stab  me  over  the  heart  at  the  time  he  had  wrenched 
free,  but  he  had  merely  slashed  my  arm.  It  was  not 
a  severe  wound,  but  it  gave  me  pain. 

"Only  a  scratch,"  said  Wainwright. 

I  envied  the  philosophic  calm  with  which  he  re 
garded  it. 

"It'll  heal,"  I  returned  shortly.  "Where  is  the 
other  gang?  Are  they  gone?" 

"No;  there's  half  a  dozen  of  'em  out  in  the  par 
lor,  I  reckon." 

"You'd  better  tell  him,"  said  Fitzhugh,  shifting 
an  unpleasant  task. 

"Well,"  said  Wainwright,  "we  heard  orders  given 
to  shoot  the  first  man  that  comes  out  before  morn 
ing,  but  before  all  to  kill  you  if  you  sticks  your  nose 
outside  before  sun-up." 

The  amiable  intentions  of  the  victors  set  me  to 
thinking.  If  it  was  important  to  keep  me  here  till 
morning,  it  must  be  important  to  me  to  get  out. 


ONTHEROAD  293 

There  was  no  duty  to  keep  me  here,  for  I  need  fear 
no  attack  on  the  boy  who  was  with  us.  I  looked  at 
my  watch,  and  found  it  was  near  one  o'clock. 

"Tie  those  blankets  together,"  I  ordered,  as  soon 
as  I  was  able  to  get  my  feet. 

The  men  obeyed  me  in  silence,  while  Wainwright 
vainly  tried  to  quiet  the  child.  I  was  satisfied  to  have 
him  cry,  for  the  more  noise  he  made  the  less  our 
movements  would  be  heard.  I  had  a  plan  that  I 
thought  might  be  carried  out. 

While  the  others  were  at  work,  I  cautiously  raised 
the  window  and  peered  through  the  shutters.  The 
rain  was  falling  briskly,  and  the  wind  still  blew  a 
gale.  I  thought  I  distinguished  the  dark  figure  of  a 
man  on  guard  within  a  few  feet  of  the  building,  and 
my  heart  sank. 

"How  many  are  in  the  parlor,  Wilson?"  I  asked. 

Wilson  applied  his  eye  to  the  keyhole. 

"Can't  see  anybody  but  that  one-eyed  fellow, 
Broderick,  but  there  might  be  more." 

A  flash  of  memory  came  to  me,  and  I  felt  in  my 
pocket  for  Mother  Borton's  mysterious  scrawl. 
"Give  that  to  a  one-eyed  man,"  she  had  said.  It  was 
a  forlorn  hope,  but  worth  the  trying. 

"Hand  this  to  Broderick,"  I  said,  "as  soon  as  you 
can  do  it  without  any  one's  seeing  you." 

Wilson  did  not  like  the  task,  but  he  took  the  en 
velope  and  silently  brought  the  door  ajar.  His  first 
investigations  were  evidently  reassuring,  for  he  soon 
had  half  his  body  outside. 


294  BLINDFOLDED 

"He's  got  it,"  he  said  on  reappearing. 

A  little  later  there  was  a  gentle  tap  at  the  door, 
and  the  head  of  the  one-eyed  man  was  thrust  in. 

"It's  as  much  as  my  life's  worth,"  he  whispered. 
"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?" 

"How  many  men  are  in  the  street  below  here?" 

"There's  one ;  but  more  are  in  call." 

"Well,  I  want  him  got  out  of  the  way." 

"That's  easy,"  said  Broderick,  with  a  diabolical 
wink  of  his  one  eye.  "I'll  have  him  change  places 
with  me." 

"Good!  How  many  men  are  here ?" 

"You  don't  need  to  know  that.  There's  enough  to 
bury  you." 

"Have  Meeker  and  Terrill  gone?" 

"Tom  ?  He's  in  the  next  room  here,  and  can  count 
it  a  mercy  of  the  saints  if  he  gits  out  in  a  week. 
Meeker's  gone  with  the  old  man.  WTell,  I  can't  stay 
a-gabbin'  any  longer,  or  I'll  be  caught,  and  then  the 
divil  himsilf  couldn't  save  me." 

I  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  the  "old  man,"  and 
the  shadow  of  Doddridge  Knapp  weighed  on  my 
spirits. 

"Are  you  ready  for  an  excursion,  Fitzhugh?"  I 
whispered. 

He  nodded  assent. 

"Well,  we'll  be  out  of  here  in  a  minute  or  two. 
Take  that  overcoat.  I've  got  one.  Now  tie  that 
blanket  to  the  bedpost.  No,  it  won't  be  long  enough. 
You'll  have  to  hold  it  for  us,  boys." 


ON    THE   ROAD  295 

I  heard  the  change  of  guards  below,  and,  giving 
directions  to  Wainwright,  with  funds  to  settle  our 
account  with  the  house,  I  blew  out  the  lamp,  quietly 
swung  open  the  shutter  and  leaned  over  the  sill. 

"Hold  on  to  the  blanket,  boys.  Follow  me,  Fitz," 
I  whispered,  and  climbed  out.  The  strain  on  my 
injured  arm  as  I  swung  off  gave  me  a  burning  pain, 
but  I  repressed  the  groan  that  came  into  my  throat. 
I  half-expected  a  bullet  to  bring  me  to  the  ground  in 
a  hurry,  for  I  was  not  over-trustful  of  the  good  faith 
of  Mother  Borton's  friend.  But  I  got  to  the  ground 
in  safety,  and  was  relieved  when  Fitzhugh  stood  be 
side  me,  and  the  improvised  rope  was  drawn  up. 

"Where  now?"  whispered  Fitzhugh. 

"To  the  stable." 

As  we  slipped  along  to  the  corner  a  man  stepped 
out  before  us. 

"Don't  shoot,"  he  said ;  "it's  me, — Broderick.  Tell 
Mother  Borton  I  wouldn't  have  done  it  for  anybody 
but  her." 

"I'm  obliged  to  you  just  the  same,"  I  said.  "And 
here's  a  bit  of  drink  money.  Now,  where  are  my 
men?" 

"Don't  know.   In  the  lockup,  I  reckon." 

"How  is  that?" 

"Why,  you  see,  Meeker  tells  the  fellows  here  he 
has  a  warrant  for  you, — that  you're  the  gang  of 
burglars  that's  wanted  for  the  Parrott  murder.  And 
he  had  to  show  the  constable  and  the  landlord  and 
some  others  the  warrant,  too." 


296  BLINDFOLDED 

"How  many  were  hurt?" 

"Six  or  seven.  Two  of  your  fellows  looked  pretty 
bad  when  they  was  carried  out." 

We  turned  down  a  by-street,  but  as  soon  as  the 
guard  had  disappeared  we  retraced  our  steps  and 
hastened  to  the  Thatcher  stables. 

The  rain  was  whipped  into  our  faces  as  we  bent 
against  the  wind,  and  the  whish  and  roar  of  the  gale 
among  the  trees,  and  the  rattle  of  loose  boards  and 
tins,  as  they  were  tossed  and  shaken  behind  the 
houses,  gave  a  melancholy  accompaniment  to  our 
hasty  march. 

"Hist!"  said  Fitzhugh  in  my  ear.  "Is  that  some 
one  following  us?" 

I  drew  him  into  a  corner,  and  peered  back  into  the 
darkness. 

"I  can  see  no  one." 

"I  thought  I  heard  a  man  running." 

"Wait  a  minute.  If  there  is  any  one  after  us  he 
must  lose  us  right  here." 

We  listened  in  silence.  Only  the  plash  of  water 
and  the  voice  of  the  storm  came  to  our  ears. 

"Well,  if  they  are  looking  for  us  they  have  gone 
the  other  way.  Come  along,"  I  said. 

We  nearly  missed  the  stable  in  the  darkness,  and 
it  was  several  minutes  before  we  roused  Thatcher 
to  a  state  in  which  he  could  put  together  the  two 
ideas  that  we  wanted  to  get  in,  and  that  it  was  his 
place  to  get  up  and  let  us  in. 

"Horses  to-night?"  he  gasped,  throwing  up  his 


ONTHEROAD  297 

hands.  "Holy  Moses !  I  couldn't  think  of  letting  the 
worst  plug  of  the  lot  out  in  this  storm." 

"Well,  I  want  your  best." 

"You'll  have  to  do  it,  Dick,"  said  Fitzhugh  with 
a  few  words  of  explanation.  "He'll  make  it  all 
right  for  you." 

"Where  are  you  going?"  said  Thatcher. 

"Oakland." 

He  threw  up  his  hands  once  more. 

"Great  Scott!  you  can't  do  it.  The  horses  can't 
travel  fifty  miles  at  night  and  in  this  weather.  You'd 
best  wait  for  the  morning  train.  The  express  will  be 
through  here  before  five." 

I  hesitated  a  moment,  but  the  chances  of  being 
stopped  were  too  great. 

"I  must  go,"  I  said  decidedly.  "I  can't  wait  here." 

"I  have  it,"  said  Thatcher.  "By  hard  riding  you 
can  get  to  Niles  in  time  to  catch  the  freight  as  it  goes 
up  from  San  Jose.  It  will  get  you  down  in  time  for 
the  first  boat,  if  that's  what  you  want." 

"Good!  How  far  is  it?" 

"We  call  it  eighteen  miles, — it's  a  little  over  that; 
by  the  road.    There's  only  one  nasty  bit.    That's  in 
the  canyon." 

"I  think  we  shall  need  the  pleasure  of  your  com 
pany,"  I  said. 

The  stableman  was  moved  by  a  conflict  of  feel 
ings.  He  was  much  indisposed  to  a  twenty-mile 
ride  in  the  storm  and  darkness;  yet  he  was  plainly 
unwilling  to  trust  his  horses  unless  he  went  with 


298  BLINDFOLDED 

them.  I  offered  him  a  liberal  price  for  the  ser 
vice. 

"It's  a  bad  job,  but  if  you  must,  you  must,"  he 
groaned.  And  he  soon  had  three  horses  under  the 
saddle. 

I  eyed  the  beasts  with  some  disfavor.  They  were 
evidently  half -mustang,  and  I  thought  undersized 
for  such  a  journey.  But  I  was  to  learn  before  the 
night  was  out  the  virtues  of  strength  and  endurance 
that  lie  in  the  blood  of  the  Indian  horse. 

"Hist!  What's  that?"  said  Fitzhugh,  extinguish 
ing  the  light. 

The  voices  of  the  storm  and  the  uneasy  champing 
of  the  horses  were  the  only  sounds  that  rewarded  a 
minute's  listening. 

"We  must  chance  it,"  said  I,  after  looking 
cautiously  into  the  darkness,  and  finding  no  signs 
of  a  foe. 

And  in  a  moment  more  we  were  galloping  down  the 
street,  the  hoof-beats  scarcely  sounding  in  the  soft 
ened  earth  of  the  roadway.  Not  a  word  was  spoken 
after  the  start  as  we  turned  through  the  side  streets 
to  avoid  the  approaches  to  the  hotel.  I  looked  and 
listened  intently,  expecting  each  bunch  of  deeper 
darkness  in  the  streets  to  start  into  life  with  shouts 
of  men  and  crack  of  revolvers  in  an  effort  to  stay  our 
flight.  Thatcher  led  the  way,  and  Fitzhugh  rode  by 
my  side. 

"Look  there!"  cried  Fitzhugh  in  my  ear. 
"There's  some  one  running  to  the  hotel !" 


ON   THE   ROAD  299 

I  looked,  and  thought  I  could  see  a  form  moving 
through  the  blackness.  The  hotel  could  just  be  dis 
tinguished  two  blocks  away.  It  might  well  be  a 
scout  of  the  enemy  hastening  to  give  the  alarm. 

"Never  mind,"  I  said.    "We've  got  the  start." 

Thatcher  suddenly  turned  to  the  west,  and  in  an 
other  minute  we  were  on  the  open  highway,  with  the 
steady  beat  of  the  horses'  hoofs  splashing  a  wild 
rhythm  on  the  muddy  road. 

The  wind,  which  had  been  behind  us,nowr  whipped 
the  rain  into  our  faces  from  the  left,  half  blinding 
us  as  the  gusts  sent  the  spray  into  our  eyes,  then 
tugged  fiercely  at  coats  and  hats  as  if  nothing  could 
be  so  pleasing  to  the  po\vers  of  the  air  as  to  send  our 
raiment  in  a  watch's  flight  through  the  clouds. 

With  the  town  once  behind  us,  I  felt  my  spirits 
rise  with  every  stroke  of  the  horse's  hoofs  beneath 
me.  The  rain  and  the  wind  were  friends  rather  than 
foes.  Yet  my  arm  pained  me  sharply,  and  I  was 
forced  to  carry  the  reins  in  the  whip  hand. 

Here  the  road  was  broader,  and  we  rode  three 
abreast,  silent,  watchful,  each  busy  with  his  own 
thoughts,  and  all  alert  for  the  signs  of  chase  behind. 
Thrice  my  heart  beat  fast  with  the  sound  in  my  ears 
of  galloping  pursuers.  Thrice  I  laughed  to  think 
that  the  patter  of  falling  drops  on  the  roadway 
should  deceive  my  sense  of  sound.  Here  the  track 
narrowed,  and  Thatcher  shot  ahead,  flinging  mud 
and  water  from  his  horse's  heels  fair  upon  us.  There 
it  broadened  once  more,  and  our  willing  beasts 


300  BLINDFOLDED 

pressed  forward  and  galloped  beside  the  stableman's 
till  the  hoofs  beat  in  unison. 

"There!"  said  Thatcher,  suddenly  pulling  his 
horse  up  to  a  walk.  "We're  five  miles  out,  and 
they've  got  a  big  piece  to  make  up  if  they're  on  our 
,|track.  We'll  breathe  the  horses  a  bit." 
1  The  beasts  were  panting  a  little,  but  chafed  at  the 
bits  as  we  walked  them,  and  tossed  their  heads  un 
easily  to  the  pelting  of  the  storm. 

"Hark !"  I  cried.  "Did  you  hear  that?"  I  was  al 
most  certain  that  the  sound  of  a  faint  halloo  came 
from  behind  us.  I  was  not  alone  in  the  thought. 

"The  dern  fools !"  said  Fitzhugh.  "They  want  a 
long  chase,  I  guess,  to  go  through  the  country  yell 
ing  like  a  pack  of  wild  Injuns." 

"I  reckon  'twas  an  owl,"  said  Thatcher;  "but  we 
might  as  well  be  moving.  We  needn't  take  no  chances 
while  we've  got  a  good  set  of  heels  under  us.  Get 
up,  boys." 

The  willing  brutes  shot  forward  into  the  darkness 
at  the  word,  and  tossed  the  rain-drops  from  their 
ears  with  many  an  angry  nod. 

Of  the  latter  part  of  the  journey  I  have  but  a  con- 
|  fused  remembrance.  I  had  counted  myself  a  good 
rider  in  former  days,  but  I  had  not  mounted  a  horse 
for  years.  I  had  slept  but  little  in  forty-eight  hours, 
and,  worst  of  all,  my  arm  pained  me  more  and  more. 
With  the  fatigue  and  the  jar  of  the  steady  gallop, 
it  seemed  to  swell  until  it  was  the  body  and  I  the 
poor  appendage  to  it.  My  head  ached  from  the  blow 


ON   THE   ROAD  301 

it  had  got,  and  in  a  stupor  of  dull  pain  I  covered  the 
weary  miles.  But  for  the  comfortable  Mexican  sad 
dle  I  fear  I  should  have  sunk  under  the  fatigue  and 
distress  of  the  journey  and  left  friends  and  enemies 
to  find  their  way  out  of  the  maze  as  best  they  might. 

I  have  a  dim  recollection  of  splashing  over  miles 
of  level  road,  drenched  with  water  and  buffeted  by 
gusts  of  wind  that  faced  us  more  and  more,  with  the 
monotonous  beat  of  hoofs  ever  in  my  ears,  and  the 
monotonous  stride  of  the  horse  beneath  me  ever  rack 
ing  my  tired  muscles.  Then  we  slackened  pace  in  a 
road  that  wound  in  sharp  descent  through  a  gap 
in  the  hills,  with  the  rush  and  roar  of  a  torrent  be 
neath  and  beside  us,  the  wind  sweeping  with  wild 
blasts  through  the  trees  that  lined  the  way  and  cov 
ered  the  hillside  and  seeming  to  change  the  direction 
of  its  attack  at  every  moment. 

"We'll  make  it,  I  reckon,"  said  Thatcher,  at  last. 
"It's  only  two  miles  farther,  and  the  train  hasn't 
gone  up  yet." 

The  horses  by  this  time  were  wrell-blown.  The  road 
was  heavy,  and  we  had  pressed  them  hard.  Yet 
they  struggled  with  spirit  as  they  panted,  and  an 
swered  to  the  whip  when  we  called  on  them  for  the 
last  stretch  as  we  once  more  found  a  level  road. 

There  was  no  sign  of  life  about  the  station  as  we 
drew  our  panting,  steaming  horses  to  a  halt  before 
it,  and  no  train  was  in  sight.  The  rain  dripping 
heavily  from  the  eaves  was  the  only  sound  that  came 
from  it,  and  a  dull  glow  from  an  engine  that  lay 


302  BLINDFOLDED 

alone  on  a  siding  was  the  only  light  that  was  to  be 
seen. 

"What's  the  time?"  asked  Thatcher.  "We  must 
have  made  a  quick  trip." 

"Twenty  minutes  past  three,"  said  I,  striking  a 
match  under  my  coat  to  see  my  watch-face. 

"Immortal  snakes!"  cried  Thatcher.  "I'm  an 
idiot.  This  is  Sunday  night." 

I  failed  to  see  the  connection  of  these  startling 
discoveries,  but  I  had  spirit  enough  to  argue  the  case. 
"It's  Monday  morning,  now." 

"Well,  it's  the  same  thing.  The  freight  doesn't 
run  to-night." 

I  awoke  to  some  interest  at  this  announcement. 

"Why,  it's  got  to  run,  or  we  must  take  to  saddle 
again  for  the  rest  of  the  way." 

"These  horses  can't  go  five  miles  more  at  that 
gait,  let  alone  twenty-five,"  protested  Thatcher. 

"Well,  then,  we  must  get  other  horses  here." 

"Come,"  said  Fitzhugh;  "what's  the  use  of  that 
when  there's  an  engine  on  the  siding  doing  nothing?" 

"Just  the  idea.    Find  the  man  in  charge." 

But  there  did  not  appear  to  be  any  man  in  charge. 
The  engineer  and.  fireman  were  gone,  arid  the  watch 
man  had  been  driven  to  cover  by  the  foul  weather. 

We  looked  the  iron  horse  over  enviously. 

"Why,  this  is  the  engine  that  came  up  with  the 
special  this  noon,"  said  Fitzhugh.  "I  remember  the 
number." 

"Good !    We  are  ahead  of  the  enemy,  then.    They 


ON   THE   ROAD  303 

haven't  had  a  chance  to  get  the  wire,  and  we  beat 
them  on  the  road.  We  must  find  the  engineer  and 
get  it  ourselves." 

"I've  got  an  idea,"  said  Fitzhugh.  "It's  this: 
why  not  take  the  machine  without  asking?  I  was 
a  fireman  once,  and  I  can  run  it  pretty  well." 

I  thought  a  moment  on  the  risk,  but  the  need  was 
greater. 

"Just  the  thing.  Take  the  money  for  the  horses 
to  your  friend  there.  I'll  open  the  switch." 

In  a  few  minutes  Fitzhugh  was  back. 

"I  told  him,"  he  chuckled.  "He  says  it's  a  jail 
offense,  but  it's  the  only  thing  we  can  do." 

"It  may  be  a  case  of  life  and  death,"  I  said.  "Pull 
out." 

"There's  mighty  little  steam  here — hardly  enough 
to  move  her,"  said  Fitzhugh  from  the  cab,  stirring 
the  fire. 

But  as  he  put  his  hand  to  the  lever  she  did  move 
easily  on  to  the  main  track,  and  rested  while  I  re 
set  the  switch. 

Then  I  climbed  back  into  the  cab,  and  sank  down 
before  the  warm  blaze  in  a  stupor  of  faintness  as 
the  engine  glided  smoothly  and  swiftly  down  the 
track. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A  FLUTTER  IN  THE  MARKET 

The  gray  pall  of  the  storm  hung  over  San  Fran 
cisco.  The  dim  light  of  the  morning  scarcely  pene 
trated  into  the  hallways  as  we  climbed  the  stairs  that 
led  to  our  lodgings,  leaving  behind  us  the  trail  of 
dripping  garments.  I  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  as  Trent 
opened  the  door,  and  we  once  more  faced  the  pleas 
ing  prospect  of  warmth,  dry  clothing  and  friends. 

We  had  made  the  run  from  Niles  without  incident, 
and  had  left  the  engine  on  a  siding  at  Brooklyn 
without  being  observed.  If  the  railroad  company 
still  has  curiosity,  after  all  these  years,  to  know  how 
that  engine  got  from  Niles  to  Brooklyn,  I  trust  that 
the  words  I  have  just  written  may  be  taken  as  an  ex 
planation  and  apology. 

"Where's  Barkhouse?"  I  asked,  becoming  com 
fortable  once  more  with  dry  clothes,  a  warm  room 
and  a  fresh  bandage  on  my  arm. 

"He  hasn't  shown  up,  sir/'  said  Trent.  "Owens 
and  Larson  went  out  to  look  for  him  toward  evening 
yesterday,  but  there  wasn't  a  sign  of  him." 

"Try  again  to-day.  You  may  pick  up  news  at 
Borton's  or  some  of  the  water-front  saloons." 

304 


A   FLUTTER   IN    THE    MARKET      305 

"Oh,  there  was  a  letter  for  you,"  said  Trent.  "I 
near  forgot." 

I  snatched  the  envelope,  for  the  address  was  in 
the  hand  of  the  Unknown.  The  sheet  within  bore 
the  words : 

"Where  is  the  boy?  Have  you  removed  him? 
Send  the  key  to  Richmond.  Let  me  know  when  you 
return,  for  I  must  see  you  as  soon  as  it  is  safe." 

I  read  the  note  three  or  four  times,  and  each  time 
I  was  more  bewildered  than  before.  I  had  left  the 
boy  in  Livermore,  but  certainly  he  was  not  the  one 
she  meant.  He  was  the  "wrong  boy,"  and  my  em 
ployer  must  be  well  aware  that  I  had  taken  him  at 
her  orders.  Or  could  that  expedition  be  a  jest  of 
the  enemy  to  divert  my  attention?  I  dismissed  this 
theory  as  soon  as  it  suggested  itself. 

But  where  wras  the  "right  boy"?  I  had  for  a 
moment  a  sinking  feeling  of  terror  in  the  thought 
that  the  enemy  had  captured  him.  Mother  Borton's 
warning  that  they  had  found  his  place  of  hiding  re 
turned  to  confirm  this  thought.  But  in  an  instant  I 
remembered  that  the  enemy  had  followed  me  in  force 
to  Livermore  in  chase  of  the  wrong  boy,  and  had  at 
tacked  me  in  pure  chagrin  at  the  trick  that  had  been 
played  on  them.  That  showed  me  beyond  ques 
tion  that  they  had  not  obtained  possession  of  the 
right  boy.  And  the  "key"  that  I  was  to  send  to 
Richmond,  what  was  that  ? 

The  closing  portion  of  the  note  set  my  heart  beat- 


306  BLINDFOLDED 

ing  fast.  At  last  I  was  to  have  the  opportunity  to 
meet  my  mysterious  employer  face  to  face.  But 
what  explanation  was  I  to  make?  What  reception 
would  I  meet  when  she  learned  that  Henry  Wilton 
had  given  up  his  life  in  her  service,  and  that  I,  who 
had  taken  his  place,  could  tell  nothing  of  the  things 
she  wished  to  know  ? 

I  wrote  a  brief  note  to  Richmond  stating  that  I 
had  no  key,  inclosed  the  Unknown's  note,  with  the 
remark  that  I  had  returned,  and  gave  it  to  Owens 
to  deliver.  I  was  in  some  anxiety  lest  he  might  not 
know  where  Richmond  was  to  be  found.  But  he 
took  the  note  without  question,  and  I  lay  down  with 
orders  that  I  was  to  be  called  in  time  to  reach  the 
opening  session  of  the  stock  market,  and  in  a  mo 
ment  was  fast  asleep. 

The  Stock  Exchange  was  a  boiling  and  bubbling 
mass  of  excited  men  as  I  reached  it.  Pine  Street, 
wet  and  sloppy,  was  lined  with  a  mob  of  umbrellas 
that  sheltered  anxious  speculators  of  small  degree, 
and  the  great  building  was  thronged  with  the  larger 
dealers — with  millionaires  and  brokers,  with  men 
who  were  on  their  way  to  fortune,  and  those  who 
had  been  millionaires  and  now  were  desperately 
struggling  against  the  odds  of  fate  as  they  saw  their 
wealth  swept  away  in  the  gamblers'  whirlpool. 

I  shouldered  my  way  through  the  crowd  into  the 
buzzing  Board-room  as  the  session  opened.  Excite 
ment  thrilled  the  air,  but  the  opening  was  listless. 


A   FLUTTER   IN   THE   MARKET      307 

All  knew  that  the  struggle  over  Omega  was  to  be 
settled  that  day,  and  that  Doddridge  Knapp  or 
George  Decker  was  to  find  ruin  at  the  end  of  the  call, 
and  all  were  eager  to  hasten  the  decisive  moment. 

Wallbridge  came  panting  before  me,  his  round, 
bald  head  bobbing  with  excitement. 

"Ready  for  the  fray,  eh?  Oh,  it's  worth  money 
to  see  this.  Talk  of  your  theaters  now,  eh?  Got 
any  orders?" 

"Not  yet,"  I  returned,  hardly  sharing  the  little 
man's  enjoyment  of  the  scene.  The  size  of  the  stakes 
made  me  tremble. 

I  could  see  nothing  of  Doddridge  Knapp,  and  the 
uneasy  feeling  that  he  was  at  Livermore  came  over 
me.  What  was  my  duty  in  case  he  did  not  appear  ? 
Had  he  left  his  fortune  at  the  mercy  of  the  market 
to  follow  his  lawless  schemes  ?  Had  he  been  caught 
in  his  own  trap,  and  was  he  now  to  be  ruined  as  the 
result  of  his  own  acts  ?  For  a  moment  I  felt  a  venge 
ful  hope  that  he  might  have  come  to  grief.  But  when 
I  remembered  that  it  was  Luella  who  must  suffer 
with  him,  I  determined  to  make  an  effort  to  save  the 
deal,  even  without  authority,  if  the  money  or  credit 
for  buying  the  remaining  shares  was  to  be  had. 

I  might  have  spared  my  worry.  The  call  had  not 
proceeded  far,  when  the  massive  form  of  Doddridge 
Knapp  appeared  at  the  railing.  The  strong  wolf- 
marks  of  the  face  were  stronger  than  ever  as  he 
watched  the  scene  on  the  floor.  I  looked  in  vain  for 
a  trace  upon  him  of  last  night's  work.  If  he  had 


308  BLINDFOLDED 

been  at  Livermore,  he  showed  no  sign  of  the  passions 
or  anxieties  that  had  filled  the  dark  hours. 

He  nodded  carelessly  for  me  to  come  to  him  as 
he  caught  my  eye. 

"You  have  the  stock  ?" 

"All  safe." 

"And  the  proxies?" 

"Just  as  you  ordered." 

The  King  of  the  Street  looked  at  me  sharply. 

"I  told  you  to  keep  sober  till  this  deal  was  over," 
he  growled. 

"You  are  obeyed,"  I  said.  "I  have  not  touched  a 
drop." 

"Well,  you  look  as  though  you  had  taken  a  romp 
with  the  devil,"  he  said. 

"I  have,"  I  returned  with  a  meaning  look. 

His  eyes  fell  before  my  steady  gaze,  and  he 
turned  them  on  the  noisy  throng  before  us. 

"Any  orders  ?"  I  asked  at  last. 

"Be  where  I  can  call  you  the  minute  I  want  you," 
he  replied. 

"Now,  my  boy,"  he  continued  after  a  minute,  "you 
are  going  to  see  what  hasn't  been  seen  in  the  Boards 
for  years,  and  I  reckon  you'll  never  see  it  again." 

"What  is  it  ?"  I  asked  politely.  I  was  prepared  for 
almost  any  kind  of  fire-works  in  that  arena. 

Doddridge  Knapp  made  no  reply,  but  raised  his 
hand  as  if  to  command  silence,  and  a  moment  later 
the  call  of  Omega  was  heard.  And,  for  a  marvel,  a 
strange  stillness  did  fall  on  the  throng. 


A    FLUTTER   IN    THE    MARKET      309 

At  the  word  of  call  I  saw  Doddridge  Knapp  step 
down  to  the  floor  of  the  pit,  calm,  self-possessed, 
his  shoulders  squared  and  his  look  as  proud  and 
forceful  as  that  of  a  monarch  who  ruled  by  the  might 
of  his  sword,  while  a  grim  smile  played  about  his 
stern  mouth. 

The  silence  of  the  moment  that  followed  was  al 
most  painful.  In  that  place  it  seemed  the  most  un 
natural  of  prodigies.  Brokers,  speculators  and  spec 
tators  were  as  surprised  as  I,  and  a  long-drawn 
"Ah-h !"  followed  by  a  buzzing  as  of  a  great  swarm 
of  bees  greeted  his  appearance.  The  stillness  and  the 
buzzing  seemed  to  take  an  hour,  but  it  could  not  have 
been  as  much  as  a  minute  when  the  voice  of  Dodd 
ridge  Knapp  rang  like  a  trumpet  through  the  Board 
room. 

"Five  hundred  for  Omega !" 

This  was  a  wild  jump  from  the  three  hundred  and 
twenty-five  that  was  marked  against  the  stock  at  the 
close  on  Saturday,  but  I  supposed  the  King  ©f  the 
Street  knew  what  he  was  about. 

At  the  bid  of  Doddridge  Knapp  a  few  cries  rose 
here  and  there,  and  he  was  at  once  the  center  of  a 
group  of  gesticulating  brokers.  Then  I  saw  Decker, 
pale,  eager,  alert,  standing  by  the  rail  across  the 
room,  signaling  orders  to  men  who  howled  bids  and 
plunged  wildly  into  the  crowd  that  surrounded  his 
rival. 

The  bids  and  offers  came  back  and  forth  with 
shouts  and  barks,  yet  they  made  but  a  murmur  com- 


310  BLINDFOLDED 

pared  to  the  whirlwind  of  sound  that  had  arisen 
from  the  pit  at  the  former  struggles  I  had  witnessed. 
There  seemed  but  few  blocks  of  the  stock  on  the 
market.  Yet  the  air  was  electric  with  the  tense  strain 
of  thousands  of  minds  eager  to  catch  the  faintest 
indication  of  the  final  result,  and  I  found  it  more  ex 
citing  than  the  wildest  days  of  clamor  and  struggle. 

"This  is  great,"  chuckled  Wallbridge,  taking  post 
before  me.  "There  hasn't  been  anything  like  it  since 
Decker  captured  dollar  in  the  election  of  seventy- 
three.  You  don't  remember  that,  I  guess?" 

"I  wasn't  in  the  market  then,"  I  admitted. 

"Lord !  Just  to  hear  that !"  cried  the  stout  little 
man,  mopping  his  glistening  head  frantically  and 
quivering  with  nervous  excitement.  "Doddridge 
Knapp  bids  fifteen  hundred  for  the  stock  and  only 
gets  five  shares.  Oh,  why  ain't  I  a  chance  to  get  into 
this?" 

I  heard  a  confused  roar,  above  which  rose  the 
fierce  tones  of  Doddridge  Knapp. 

"How  many  shares  has  he  got  to-day?"  I  asked. 

"Not  forty  yet." 

"And  the  others?" 

"There's  been  about  two  thousand  sold." 

I  gripped  the  rail  in  nervous  tension.  The  battle 
seemed  to  be  going  against  the  King  of  the  Street. 

"Oh !"  gasped  Wallbridge,  trembling  with  excite 
ment.  "Did  you  hear  that ?  There!  It's  seventeen 
hundred — now  it's  seventeen-fif ty !  Whew!" 

I  echoed  the  exclamation. 


A    FLUTTER    IN    THE    MARKET      311 

"Oh,  why  haven't  I  got  ten  thousand  shares?"  he 
groaned. 

"Who  is  getting  them?" 

"Knapp  got  the  last  lot.  O-oh,  look  there !  Did 
you  ever  see  the  like  of  that  ?" 

I  looked.  Decker,  hatless,  with  hair  disheveled, 
had  leaped  the  rail  and  was  hurrying  into  the  throng 
that  surrounded  Doddridge  Knapp. 

"There  was  never  two  of  'em  on  the  floor  before," 
cried  Wallbridge. 

At  Decker's  appearance  the  brokers  opened  a  lane 
to  him,  the  cries  fell,  and  there  was  an  instant  of 
silence,  as  the  kings  of  the  market  thus  came  face  to 
face. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  sight.  Doddridge  Knapp, 
massive,  calm,  forceful,  surveyed  his  opponent  with 
unruffled  composure.  He  was  dressed  in  a  light 
gray-brown  suit  that  made  him  seem  larger  than 
ever.  Decker  was  nervous,  disheveled,  his  dress 
of  black  setting  off  the  pallor  of  his  face,  till  it 
seemed  as  white  as  his  shirt  bosom,  as  he  fronted  the 
King  of  the  Street. 

The  foes  faced  each  other,  watchful  as  two  wrest 
lers  looking  to  seize  an  opening,  and  the  Board-room 
held  its  breath.  Then  the  crowd  of  brokers  closed 
in  again  and  the  clamor  rose  once  more. 

I  could  not  make  out  the  progress  of  the  contest, 
but  the  trained  ear  of  Wallbridge  interpreted  the 
explosions  of  inarticulate  sound. 

"Phew!  listen  to  that!     Two  thousand,  twenty- 


312  BLINDFOLDED 

one  hundred,  twenty-one  fifty.     Great  snakes!     See 
her  jump !"  he  cried.    "Decker's  getting  it." 

My  heart  sank.  Doddridge  Knapp  must  have 
smothered  his  brain  once  more  in  the  Black  Smoke, 
and  was  now  paying  the  price  of  indulgence.  And 
his  plans  of  wealth  were  a  sacrifice  to  the  wild  and 
criminal  scheme  into  which  he  had  entered  in  his 
contest  against  the  Unknown.  I  saw  the  wreck  of 
fortune  engulf  Mrs.  Knapp  and  Luella,  and  groaned 
in  spirit.  Then  a  flash  of  hope  shot  through  me. 
Luella  Knapp,  the  heiress  to  millions,  was  beyond 
my  dreams,  but  Luella  Knapp,  the  daughter  of  a 
ruined  speculator,  would  not  be  too  high  a  prize  for 
a  poor  man  to  set  his  eyes  upon. 

The  clang  of  the  gong  recalled  me  from  the 
reverie  that  had  shut  out  the  details  of  the  scene  be 
fore  me. 

"There!  Did  you  hear  that?"  groaned  Wall- 
bridge.  "Omega  closes  at  two  thousand  six  hundred 
and  Decker  takes  every  trick.  Oh,  why  didn't  you 
have  me  on  the  floor  out  there?  By  the  great  horn 
spoon,  I'd  'a'  had  every  share  of  that  stock,  and 
wouldn't  'a'  paid  more  than  half  as  much  for  it, 
neither." 

I  sighed  and  turned,  sick  at  heart,  to  meet  the 
King  of  the  Street  as  he  shouldered  his  way  from 
the  floor. 

There  was  not  a  trace  of  his  misfortune  to  be  read 
in  his  face.  But  Decker,  the  victor,  moved  away 
like  a  man  oppressed,  pale,  staggering,  half-fainting, 


A    FLUTTER    IN    THE    MARKET      313 

as  though  the  nervous  strain  had  brought  him  to  the 
edge  of  collapse. 

Doddridge  Knapp  made  his  way  to  the  doors  and 
signed  me  to  follow  him,  but  spoke  no  word  until 
we  stood  beside  the  columns  that  guard  the  entrance. 

The  rain  fell  in  a  drizzle,  but  anxious  crowds  lined 
the  streets,  dodged  into  doorways  for  shelter,  or 
boldly  moved  across  the  walks  and  the  cobbled  road 
way  under  the  protection  of  bobbing  umbrellas.  The 
news  of  the  unprecedented  jump  in  Omega  in  which 
the  price  had  doubled  thrice  in  a  few  minutes,  had 
flown  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  excitement  was  at 
fever  heat. 

"That  was  warm  work,"  said  Doddridge  Knapp 
after  a  moment's  halt. 

"I  was  very  sorry  to  have  it  turn  out  so/'  I  said. 

A  grim  smile  passed  over  his  face. 

"I  wasn't/'  he  growled  good-humoredly.  "I 
thought  it  was  rather  neatly  done." 

I  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"Oh,  I  forgot  that  I  hadn't  seen  you,"  he  con 
tinued.    "And  like  enough  I  shouldn't  have  told  you! 
if  I  had.     The  truth  is,  I  found  a  block  of  four'1 
thousand  shares  on  Saturday  night,  and  made  a  com 
bination  with  them." 

"Then  the  mine  is  yours  ?" 

"The  directors  will  be." 

"But  you  were  buying  shares  this  morning." 

"A  mere  optical  illusion,  Wilton.  I  was  in  fact  a 
seller,  for  I  had  shares  to  spare." 


3i4  BLINDFOLDED 

"It  was  a  very  good  imitation." 

"I  don't  wonder  you  were  taken  in,  my  boy. 
Decker  was  fooled  to  the  tune  of  about  a  million 
dollars  this  morning.  I  thought  it  was  rather  neat 
for  a  clean-up." 

I  thought  so,  too,  and  the  King  of  the  Street 
smiled  at  my  exclamations  over  his  cleverness.  But 
my  congratulations  were  cut  short  as  a  small  dark 
man  pressed  his  way  to  the  corner  where  we  stood, 
and  whispered  in  Doddridge  Knapp's  ear. 

"Was  he  sure?"  asked  the  King  of  the  Street. 

"Those  were  his  exact  words." 

"When  was  this?" 

"Not  five  minutes  ago." 

"Run  to  Caswell's.    Tell  him  to  wait  for  me." 

The  messenger  darted  off  and  we  followed  briskly. 
Caswell,  I  found,  was  an  attorney,  and  we  were  led 
at  once  to  the  inner  office. 

"Come  in  with  me,"  said  my  employer.  "I  expect 
I  shall  need  you,  and  it  will  save  explanations." 

The  lawyer  was  a  tall,  thin  man,  with  chalky,  ex 
pressionless  features,  but  his  eyes  gave  life  to  his 
face  with  their  keen,  almost  brilliant,  vision. 

"Decker's  playing  the  joker,"  said  the  King  of  the 
Street.  "I've  beaten  him  in  the  market,  but  he's 
going  to  make  a  last  play  with  the  directors.  There's 
a  meeting  called  for  twelve-thirty.  They  are  going 
to  give  him  a  two  years'  contract  for  milling,  and 
they  talk  of  declaring  twenty  thousand  shares  of  my 
stock  invalid." 


A    FLUTTER    IN    THE    MARKET      315 

"How  many  directors  have  you  got?" 

"Two — Barber  and  myself.  Decker  thinks  he  has 
Barber." 

"Then  you  want  an  injunction?" 

"Yes." 

The  lawyer  looked  at  his  watch. 

"The  meeting  is  at  twelve-thirty.  H'm.  You'll 
have  to  hold  them  for  half  an  hour — maybe  an 
hour." 

"Make  it  half  an  hour,"  growled  Doddridge 
Knapp.  "Just  remember  that  time  is  worth  a  thou 
sand  dollars  a  second  till  that  injunction  is  served." 

He  went  out  without  another  word,  and  there 
was  a  commotion  of  clerks  as  we  left. 

"How's  your  nerve,  Wilton?"  inquired  the  King 
of  the  Street  calmly.  "Are  you  ready  for  some  hot 
work?" 

"Quite  ready." 

"Have  you  a  revolver  about  you?" 

"Yes." 

"Very  good.  I  don't  want  you  to  kill  any  one, 
but  it  may  come  in  handy  as  an  evidence  of  your 
good  intentions." 

He  led  the  way  to  California  Street  below  San- 
some,  where  we  climbed  a  flight  of  stairs  and  went 
down  a  hall  to  a  glass  door  that  bore  the  gilt  and 
painted  letters,  "Omega  Mining  Co.,  J.  D.  Storey, 
Pres't." 

"There's  five  minutes  to  spare,"  said  my  em 
ployer.  "He  may  be  alone." 


316  BLINDFOLDED 

A  stout,  florid  man,  with  red  side-whiskers  and  a 
general  air  of  good  living,  sat  by  an  over-shadowing 
desk  in  the  handsome  office,  and  looked  sourly  at  us 
as  we  entered.  He  was  not  alone,  for  a  young  man 
could  be  seen  in  a  side  room  that  was  lettered  "Sec 
retary's  Office." 

"Ah,  Mr.  Knapp,"  he  said,  bowing  deferentially  to 
the  millionaire,  and  rubbing  his  fat  red  hands.  "Can 
I  do  anything  for  you  to-day  ?" 

"I  reckon  so,  Storey.  Let  me  introduce  you  to 
Mr.  Wilton,  one  of  our  coming  directors." 

I  had  an  inward  start  at  this  information,  and  Mr. 
Storey  regarded  me  unfavorably.  We  professed 
ourselves  charmed  to  see  each  other. 

"I  suppose  it  was  an  oversight  that  you  didn't 
send  me  a  notice  of  the  directors'  meeting,"  said 
Doddridge  Knapp. 

Mr.  Storey  turned  very  red,  and  the  King  of  the 
Street  said  in  an  undertone:  "Just  lock  that  door, 
Wilton." 

"It  must  have  been  sent  by  mail,"  stammered 
Storey.  "Hi,  there!  young  man,  what  are  you  do 
ing?"  he  exclaimed,  jumping  to  his  feet  as  I  turned 
the  key  in  the  lock.  "Open  that  door  again!" 

"No  you  don't,  Storey,"  came  the  fierce  growl 
from  the  throat  of  the  Wolf.  "Your  game  is  up." 

"The  devil  it  is!"  cried  Storey,  making  a  dash 
past  Doddridge  Knapp  and  coming  with  a  rush 
straight  for  me. 

"Stop  him !"  roared  my  employer. 


A    FLUTTER    IN    THE    MARKET      317 

I  sprang  forward  and  grappled  Mr.  Storey,  but 
I  found  him  rather  a  large  contract,  for  I  had  to 
favor  my  left  arm.  Then  he  suddenly  turned  limp 
and  rolled  to  the  floor,  his  head  thumping  noisily 
on  a  corner  of  the  desk. 

Doddridge  Knapp  coolly  laid  a  hard  rubber  ruler 
down  on  the  desk,  and  I  recognized  the  source  of 
Mr.  Storey's  discomfiture. 

"I  reckon  he's  safe  for  a  bit,"  he  growled.  "Hullo, 
what's  this?" 

I  noted  a  very  pale  young  man  in  the  doorway  of 
the  secretary's  office,  apparently  doubtful  whether 
he  should  attempt  to  raise  an  alarm  or  hide. 

"You  go  back  in  your  room  and  mind  your  own 
business,  Dodson,"  said  the  King  of  the  Street. 
"Go!"  he  growled  fiercely,  as  the  young  man  still 
hesitated.  "You  know  I  can  make  or  break  you." 

The  young  man  disappeared,  and  I  closed  and 
locked  the  door  on  him. 

"There  they  come,"  said  I,  as  steps  sounded  in 
the  hall. 

"Stand  by  the  door  and  keep  them  out,"  whis 
pered  my  employer.  "I'll  see  that  Storey  doesn't  gety 
up.  Keep  still  now.  Every  minute  we  gain  is! 
worth  ten  thousand  dollars." 

I  took  station  by  the  door  as  the  knob  was  tried. 
More  steps  were  heard,  and  the  knob  was  tried 
again.  Then  the  door  was  shaken  and  picturesque 
comments  were  made  on  the  dilatory  president. 

Doddridge  Knapp  looked  grim,  but  serene,  as  he 


318  BLINDFOLDED 

sat  on  the  desk  with  his  foot  on  the  prostrate  Storey. 
I  breathed  softly,  and  listened  to  the  rising  com 
plaints  from  without. 

There  were  thumps  and  kicks  on  the  door,  and 
at  last  a  voice  roared : 

"What  are  you  waiting  for?    Break  it  in." 

A  crash  followed,  and  the  ground-glass  upper 
section  of  the  door  fell  in  fragments. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  gentlemen,"  I  said,  as  a  man 
put  his  hand  through  the  opening.  "This  revolver 
is  loaded,  and  the  first  man  to  come  through  there 
will  get  a  little  cold  lead  in  him." 

There  was  a  pause  and  then  a  storm  of  oaths. 

"Get  in  there !"  cried  Decker's  voice  from  the  rear. 
"What  are  you  afraid  of?" 

"He's  got  a  gun." 

"Well,  get  in,  three  or  four  of  you  at  once.  He 
can't  shoot  you  all." 

This  spirited  advice  did  not  seem  to  find  favor 
with  the  front-rank  men,  and  the  enemy  retired  for 
consultation.  At  last  a  messenger  came  forward. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  asked. 

"I  want  you  to  keep  out." 

"Who  is  he?"  asked  Decker's  voice. 

"There's  another  one  there,"  cried  another  voice. 
"Why,  it's  Doddridge  Knapp!" 

Decker  made  use  of  some  language  not  intended 
for  publication,  and  there  was  whispering  for  a  few 
minutes,  followed  by  silence. 

I  looked  at  Doddridge  Knapp,  sitting  grim  and 


A   FLUTTER    IN    THE    MARKET      319 

unmoved,  counting  the  minutes  till  the  injunction 
should  come.  Suddenly  a  man  bounded  through 
the  broken  upper  section  of  the  door,  tossed  by  his 
companions,  and  I  found  myself  in  a  grapple  before 
I  could  raise  my  revolver. 

We  went  down  on  the  floor  together,  and  I  had  a 
confused  notion  that  the  door  swung  open  and  four 
or  five  others  rushed  into  the  room. 

I  squirmed  free  from  my  opponent,  and  sprang 
to  my  feet  in  time  to  see  the  whole  pack  around 
Doddridge  Knapp. 

The  King  of  the  Street  sat  calm  and  forceful  with 
a  revolver  in  his  hand,  and  all  had  halted,  fearing  to 
go  farther. 

"Don't  come  too  close,  gentlemen,"  growled  the 
Wolf. 

Then  I  saw  one  of  the  men  raise  a  six-shooter  to 
aim  at  the  defiant  figure  that  faced  them.  I  gave 
a  spring  and  with  one  blow  laid  the  man  on  the 
floor.  There  was  a  flash  of  fire  as  he  fell,  and  a 
deafening  noise  was  in  my  ears.  Men  all  about  me 
were  striking  at  me.  I  scarcely  felt  their  blows  as  I 
warded  them  off  and  returned  them,  for  I  was  half- 
mad  with  the  desperate  sense  of  conflict  against 
odds.  But  at  last  I  felt  myself  seized  in  an  iron 
grip,  and  in  a  moment  was  seated  beside  Doddridge 
Knapp  on  the  desk. 

"The  time  is  up,"  he  said.  "There's  the  sheriff 
and  Caswell  with  the  writ." 

"I  congratulate  you,"  I  answered,  my  head  still 


320  BLINDFOLDED 

swimming,  noting  that  the  enemy  had  drawn  back 
at  the  coming  of  reinforcements. 

"Good   heavens,   man,   you're  hurt!"   he   cried, 
pointing  to  my  left  sleeve  where  a  blood  stain  was 
spreading.     The  wound  I  had  received  in  the  night 
conflict  at  Livermore  had  reopened  in  the  struggle. 
"It's  nothing,"  said  I.     "Just  a  scratch." 
"Here!   get  a  doctor!"   cried  the  King  of  the 
Street.     "Gentlemen,  the  directors'  meeting  is  post 
poned,  by  order  of  court." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

A  YISIOX  OF  THE  NIGHT 

"You  arc  a  very  imprudent  person,**  said 
smiling,  yet  with  a  most  charming  trace  of  anxiety 

•-in  :er  :r.e  smile. 

Vhat  have  I  been  doing  now?*  I  asked. 
•That  is  what  yon  are  to  tefl  me,  Papa  told  us  a 

.i".e  -i  .r  •  r  '-i  i  "  r~r  5.1  "•"ir.c  .".is  .ne  -ir*.  :  .v.s  7-.Lr.-S  ~-~.is 
morning;  bat  he  was  so  ?ery  short  about  it  Let  me 
know  the  whole  story  from  your  own  month.  Was 
this  the  arm  that  was  hurt?** 

I  started  to  give  a  brief  description  of  my  morn- 
i:".<  s  Ai  "eriv.i'f  ry.T  ",\e"c  '  ..s  srrv.c'r.ir.^  in  ""•"  .is- 
:,::tr's  :i;e  :;u:  -lle-d  ::rJ:  ie:^il  Af:er  ie:nil  i.-i 
her  eyes  kindled  as  I  told  the  tale  of  the  battle  that 
won  Omega  in  die  stock  Board,  and  die  fight  that 
res.r-.ie-:  :l:e  :"ii:s  ::  i::;r.  i::  :he  ;m:e  ;: 


"There  is  somrthmg  fine  in  it,  after  afl,"  die  said 
when  I  was  thiough.   "There  is  arm^tlimg  left  of 

:l:e  scir::    ;:   :he    :1:   .1^   e:.:.irers   An:   :r.e  kr.i~l::f 
Oh.  I  wish  I  were  a  man!    No,  I  don't  either.    Fd 
rather  he  the  daughter  of  a  man  —  a  real 
I  know  I  am  that" 


322  .  BLINDFOLDED 

I  thought  of  the  Doddridge  Knapp  that  she  did 
not  know,  and  a  pang  of  pity  and  sorrow  wrenched 
my  heart. 

She  saw  the  look,  and  misinterpreted  it. 

"You  do  not  think,  do  you,"  she  said  softly,  "that 
I  don't  appreciate  your  part  in  it?  Indeed  I  do." 

I  took  her  hand,  and  she  let  it  lie  a  moment  before 
she  drew  it  away. 

"I  think  I  am  more  than  repaid,"  I  said. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  she,  changing  her  tone  to  one  of 
complete  indifference.  "Papa  said  he  had  made  you 
a  director." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  taking  my  cue  from  her  manner. 
"I  have  the  happiness  to  share  the  honor  with  three 
other  dummies.  Your  father  makes  the  fifth." 

"How  absurd !"  laughed  Luella.  "Do  you  want  to 
provoke  me?" 

"Oh,  of  course,  I  mean  that  your  father  does  the 
thinking,  and — " 

"And  you  punch  the  head  he  points  out  to  you,  I 
suppose,"  said  Luella  sarcastically. 

"Exactly,"  I  said.    "And—" 

"Don't  mind  me,  Henry,"  interrupted  the  voice  of 
Mrs.  Knapp. 

"But  I  must,"  said  I,  giving  her  greeting.  "What 
service  do  you  require?" 

"Tell  me  what  you  have  been  doing." 

"I  have  just  been  telling  Miss  Luella." 

"And  what,  may  I  ask?" 

"I  was  explaining  this  morning's  troubles." 


A   VISION    OF   THE    NIGHT       323 

"Oh,  I  heard  a  little  of  them  from  Mr.  Knapp. 
Have  you  had  any  more  of  your  adventures  at  Bor- 
ton's  and  other  dreadful  places?" 

I  glanced  at  Luella.  She  was  leaning  forward, 
her  chin  resting  on  her  hand,  and  her  eyes  were 
fixed  on  me  with  close  attention. 

"I  should  like  to  hear  of  them,  too,"  she  said. 

I  considered  a  moment,  and  then,  as  I  could  see 
no  reason  for  keeping  silent,  I  gave  a  somewhat 
abridged  account  of  my  Livermore  trip,  omitting 
reference  to  the  strange  vagaries  of  the  Doddridge 
Knapp  who  traveled  by  night. 

I  had  reason  to  be  flattered  by  the  attention  of 
my  audience.  Both  women  leaned  forward  with 
wide-open  eyes,  and  followed  every  word  with 
eager  interest. 

"That  was  a  dreadful  danger  you  escaped,"  said 
Mrs.  Knapp  with  a  shudder.  "I  am  thankful,  in 
deed,  to  see  you  with  us  with  no  greater  hurt." 

Luella  said  nothing,  but  the  look  she  gave  me  set 
my  heart  dancing  in  a  way  that  all  Mrs.  Knapp's 
praise  could  not. 

"I  do  hope  this  dreadful  business  will  end  soon," 
said  Mrs.  Knapp.  "Do  you  think  this  might  be  the 
last  of  it?" 

"No,"  said  I,  remembering  the  note  I  had  re 
ceived  from  the  Unknown  on  my  return,  "there's 
much  more  to  be  done." 

"I  hope  you  are  ready  for  it,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp, 
with  a  troubled  look  upon  her  face. 


324  BLINDFOLDED 

"As  ready  as  I  ever  shall  be,  I  suppose,"  I  re 
plied.  "If  the  guardian  angel  who  has  pulled  me 
through  this  far  will  hold  on  to  his  job,  I'll  do  my 
part." 

Mrs.  Knapp  raised  a  melancholy  smile,  but  it  dis 
appeared  at  once,  and  she  seemed  to  muse  in  silence, 
with  no  very  pleasant  thought  on  her  mind.  Twice 
or  thrice  I  thought  she  wished  to  speak  to  me,  but 
if  so  she  changed  her  mind. 

I  ventured  a  few  observations  that  were  intended 
to  be  jocose,  but  she  answered  in  the  monosyllables 
of  preoccupation,  and  I  turned  to  Luella. 

She  gave  back  flashes  of  brightness,  but  I  saw  on 
her  face  the  shadow  of  her  mother's  melancholy, 
and  I  rose  at  an  early  hour  to  take  my  leave. 

"I  wonder  at  you,"  said  Luella  softly,  as  we  stood 
alone  for  a  moment. 

"You  have  little  cause." 

"What  you  have  done  is  much.  You  have  con 
quered  difficulties." 

I  looked  in  her  calm  eyes,  and  my  soul  came  to 
the  surface. 

"I  wish  you  might  be  proud  of  me,"  I  said. 

"I — I  am  proud  of  such  a  friend — except — "  She 
hesitated. 

"Always  an  'except/  "  I  said  half -bitterly. 

"But  you  have  promised  to  tell  me — " 

"Some  day.  As  soon  as  I  may."  Under  her  mag 
netic  influence,  I  should  have  told  her  then  had  she 
urged  me.  And  not  until  I  was  once  more  outside 


A   VISION   OF   THE   NIGHT      325 

the  house  did  I  recall  how  impossible  it  was  that  I 
could  ever  tell  her. 

"What  shall  I  do?  What  shall  I  do?"  was  the  re 
frain  that  ran  through  my  brain  insistently,  as  the 
battle  between  love  and  duty  rose  and  swelled.  And 
I  was  sorely  tempted  to  tell  the  Unknown  to  look 
elsewhere  for  assistance,  and  to  bury  the  memory 
of  my  dead  friend  and  the  feud  with  Doddridge 
Knapp  in  a  common  grave. 

"Here's  some  one  to  see  you,  sir,"  said  Owens,  as 
I  reached  the  walk,  and  joined  the  guards  I  had  left 
to  wait  for  me.  The  rain  had  ceased,  but  the  wind, 
which  had  fallen  during  the  day,  was  freshening 
once  more  from  the  south. 

"Yes,  sor,  you're  wanted  at  Mother  Borton's  in 
a  hurry,"  said  another  voice,  and  a  man  stepped 
forward.  "There's  the  divil  to  pay!" 

I  recognized  the  one-eyed  man  who  had  done  me 
the  service  that  enabled  me  to  escape  from  Liver- 
more. 

"Ah,  Broderick,  what's  the  matter?" 

"I  didn't  get  no  orders,  sor,  so  I  don't  know,  but 
there  was  the  divil's  own  shindy  in  the  height  of 
progression  when  I  left.  And  Mother  Borton  says 
I  was  to  come  hot-foot  for  you,  and  tell  you  to  come 
with  your  men  if  ye  valued  your  sowl." 

"Is  she  in  danger?" 

"I  reckon  the  thought  was  heavy  on  her  mind, 
for  her  face  was  white  with  the  terror  of  it." 

We  hastened  forward,  but  at  the  next  corner  a 


326  BLINDFOLDED 

passing  hack  stood  ready  for  passengers,  and  we 
rolled  down  the  street,  the  horses'  hoofs  outstripped 
by  my  anxiety  and  apprehensions. 

One  of  the  men  was  sent  to  bring  out  such  of  my 
force  as  had  returned,  and  I,  with  the  two  others, 
hurried  on  to  Borton's. 

There  was  none  of  the  sounds  of  riot  I  had  ex 
pected  to  hear  as  we  drew  up  before  it.  The  lantern 
blinked  outside  with  its  invitation  to  manifold  cheer 
within.  Lights  streamed  through  the  window  and 
the  half-opened  door,  and  quiet  and  order  reigned. 

As  I  stepped  to  the  walk,  I  found  the  explanation 
of  the  change  in  the  person  of  a  policeman,  who 
stood  at  the  door. 

"Holy  St.  Peter!  the  cops  is  on!"  whispered 
Broderick. 

I  failed  to  share  his  trepidation  in  the  presence 
of  the  representative  of  law  and  order,  and  stepped 
up  to  the  policeman. 

"Has  there  been  trouble  here,  officer?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  is  it  you,  sor?"  said  Corson's  hearty  voice. 
"I  was  wondering  about  ye.  Well,  there  has  been  a 
'bit  of  a  row  here,  and  there's  a  power  of  broken 
'heads  to  be  mended.  There's  wan  man  cut  to  pieces, 
and  good  riddance,  for  it's  Black  Dick.  I'm  think 
ing  it's  the  morgue  they'll  be  taking  him  to,  though 
it  was  for  the  receiving  hospital  they  started  with 
him.  It  was  a  dandy  row,  and  it  was  siventeen  ar- 
rists  we  made." 

"Where  is  Mother  Borton?" 


A   VISION   OF   THE   NIGHT      327 

"The  ould  she-divil's  done  for  this  time,  I'm 
a-thinking.  Whist,  I  forgot  she  was  a  friend  of 
yours,  sor." 

"Where  is  she — at  the  receiving  hospital?  What 
is  the  matter  with  her?" 

"Aisy,  aisy,  sor.  It  may  be  nothing.  She's  up 
stairs.  A  bit  of  a  cut,  they  say.  Here,  Shaughnessy, 
look  out  for  this  door !  I'll  take  ye  up,  sor." 

We  mounted  the  creaking  stairs  in  the  light  of 
the  smoky  lamp  that  stood  on  the  bracket,  and  Cor- 
son  opened  a  door  for  me. 

A  flickering  candle  played  fantastic  tricks  with 
the  furniture,  sent  shadows  dancing  over  the  dingy 
walls,  and  gave  a  weird  touch  to  the  two  figures  that 
bent  over  the  bed  in  the  corner.  The  figures 
straightened  up  at  our  entrance,  and  I  knew  them 
for  the  doctor  and  his  assistant. 

"A  friend  of  the  lady,  sor,"  whispered  Corson. 

The  doctor  looked  at  me  in  some  surprise,  but 
merely  bowed. 

"Is  she  badly  hurt?"  I  asked. 

"I've  seen  worse,"  he  answered  in  a  low  voice, 
"but — "  and  he  completed  the  sentence  by  shrug-- 
ging  his  shoulders,  as  though  he  had  small  hopes 
for  his  patient. 

Mother  Borton  turned  her  head  on  the  pillow, 
and  her  gaunt  face  lighted  up  at  the  sight  of  me. 
Her  eyes  shone  with  a  strange  light  of  their  own, 
like  the  eyes  of  a  night-bird,  and  there  was  a  fierce 
eagerness  in  her  look. 


328  BLINDFOLDED 

"Eh,  dearie,  I  knew  you  would  come,"  she  cried. 

The  doctor  pushed  his  way  to  the  bedside. 

"I  must  insist  that  the  patient  be  quiet,"  he  said 
with  authority. 

"Be  quiet?"  cried  Mother  Borton.  "Is  it  for  the 
likes  of  you  that  I'd  be  quiet?  You  white-washed 
tombstone  raiser,  you  body-snatcher,  do  you  think 
you're  the  man  to  tell  me  to  hold  my  tongue  when  I 
want  to  talk  to  a  gentleman  ?" 

"Hush!"  I  said  soothingly.  "He  means  right  by 
you." 

"You  must  lie  quiet,  or  I'll  not  be  responsible  for 
the  consequences,"  said  the  doctor  firmly. 

At  these  well-meant  words  Mother  Borton  raised 
herself  on  her  elbow,  and  directed  a  stream  of  pro 
fanity  in  the  direction  of  the  doctor  that  sent  chills 
chasing  each  other  down  my  spine,  and  seemed  for 
a  minute  to  dim  the  candle  that  gave  its  flickering 
gloom  to  the  room. 

"I'll  talk  as  I  please,"  cried  Mother  Borton.  "It's 
my  last  wish,  and  I'll  have  it.  You  tell  me  I'll 
live  an  hour  or  two  longer  if  I'm  quiet,  but  I'll  die 
as  I've  lived,  a-doin'  as  I  please,  and  have  my  say  as 
long  as  I've  got  breath  to  talk.  Go  out,  now — all  of 
you  but  this  man.  Go !" 

Mother  Borton  had  raised  herself  upon  one  el 
bow;  her  face,  flushed  and  framed  in  her  gray  and 
tangled  hair,  was  working  with  anger ;  and  her  eyes 
were  almost  lurid  as  she  sent  fierce  glances  at  one 
after  another  of  the  men  about  her.  She  pointed  a 


A   VISION   OF   THE   NIGHT      329 

skinny  finger  at  the  door,  and  each  man  as  she  cast 
her  look  upon  him  went  out  without  a  word. 

"Shut  the  door,  honey,"  she  said  quietly,  lying 
down  once  more  with  a  satisfied  smile.  "That's  it. 
Now  me  and  you  can  talk  cozy-like." 

"You'd  better  not  talk.  Perhaps  you  will  feel 
more  like  it  to-morrow." 

"There  won't  be  any  to-morrow  for  me,"  growled 
Mother  Borton.  "I've  seen  enough  of  'em  carved  to 
know  when  I've  got  the  dose  myself.  Curse  that 
knife!"  and  she  groaned  at  a  twinge  of  pain. 

"Who  did  it?" 

"Black  Dick — curse  his  soul.  And  he's  roasting 
in  hell  for  it  this  minute,"  cried  Mother  Borton 
savagely. 

"Hush!"  I  said.  "You  mustn't  excite  yourself. 
Can't  I  get  you  a  minister  or  a  priest?" 

Mother  Borton  spat  out  another  string  of  oaths. 

"Priest  or  minister!  Not  for  me!  Not  one  has 
passed  my  door  in  all  the  time  I've  lived,  and  he'll 
not  do  it  to-night.  What  could  he  tell  me  that  I 
don't  know  already?  I've  been  on  the  road  to  hell 
for  fifty  years,  and  do  you  think  the  devil  wall  let 
go  his  grip  for  a  man  that  don't  know  me?  No, 
dearie;  your  face  is  better  for  me  than  priest  or 
minister,  and  I  want  you  to  close  my  eyes  and  see 
that  I'm  buried  decent.  Maybe  you'll  remember 
Mother  Borton  for  something  more  than  a  vile  old 
woman  when  she's  gone." 

"That  I  shall,"  I  exclaimed,  touched  by  her  tone, 


330  BLINDFOLDED 

and  taking  the  hand  that  she  reached  out  to  mine. 
"I'll  do  anything  you  want,  but  don't  talk  of  dying. 
There's  many  a  year  left  in  you  yet." 

"There's  maybe  an  hour  left  in  me.  But  we  must 
hurry.  Tell  me  about  your  trouble — at  Livermore, 
was  it?" 

I  gave  her  a  brief  account  of  the  expedition  and 
its  outcome.  Mother  Borton  listened  eagerly,  giv 
ing  an  occasional  grunt  of  approval. 

"Well,  honey;  I  was  some  good  to  ye,  after  all," 
was  her  comment. 

"Indeed,  yes." 

"And  you  had  a  closer  shave  for  your  life  than 
you  think,"  she  continued.  "Tom  Terrill  swore  he'd 
kill  ye,  and  it's  one  of  the  miracles,  sure,  that  he 
didn't." 

"Well,  Mother  Borton,  Tom  Ten-ill's  laid  up  in 
Livermore  with  a  broken  head,  and  I'm  safe  here 
with  you,  ready  to  serve  you  in  any  way  that  a  man 
may." 

"Safe — safe?"  mused  Mother  Borton,  an  absent 
look  coming  over  her  skinny  features,  as  though  her 
mind  wandered.  Then  she  turned  to  me  impres 
sively.  "You'll  never  be  safe  till  you  change  your 
work  and  your  name.  You've  shut  your  ears  to  my 
words  while  I'm  alive,  but  maybe  you'll  think  of  'em 
when  I'm  in  my  coffin.  I  tell  you  now,  my  boy, 
there's  murder  and  death  before  you.  Do  you  hear  ? 
Murder  and  death." 

She  sank  back  on  her  pillow  and  gazed  at  me  with 


A   VISION    OF   THE   NIGHT      331 

a  wearied  light  in  her  eyes  and  a  sibyl  look  on  her 
face. 

"I  think  I  understand/'  I  said  gently.  "I  have 
faced  them  and  I  ought  to  know  them." 

"Then  you'll — you'll  quit  your  job — you'll  be 
yourself?" 

"I  can  not.   I  must  go  on." 

"And  why?" 

"My  friend — his  work — his  murderer." 

"Have  you  got  the  man  who  murdered  Henry 
Wilton?" 

"No." 

"Have  you  got  a  man  who  will  give  a  word 
against — against — you  know  who?" 

"I  have  not  a  scrap  of  evidence  against  any  one 
but  the  testimony  of  my  own  eyes,"  I  was  compelled 
to  confess. 

"And  you  can't  use  it — you  dare  not  use  it.  Now 
I'll  tell  you,  dearie,  I  know  the  man  as  killed  Henry 
Wilton." 

"Who  was  it  ?"  I  cried,  startled  into  eagerness. 

"It  was  Black  Dick — the  cursed  scoundrel  that's 
done  for  me.  Oh !"  she  groaned  in  pain. 

"Maybe  Black  Dick  struck  the  blow,  but  I  know 
the  man  that  stood  behind  him,  and  paid  him,  and 
protected  him,  and  I'll  see  him  on  the  gallows  be 
fore  I  die." 

"Hush,"  cried  Mother  Borton  trembling.  "If  he 
should  hear  you !  Your  throat  will  be  cut  yet,  dearie, 
and  I'm  to  blame.  Drop  it,  dearie,  drop  it.  The  boy 


332  BLINDFOLDED 

is  nothing  to  you.  Leave  him  go.  Take  your  own 
name  and  get  away.  This  is  no  place  for  you.  When 
I'm  gone  there  will  be  no  one  to  warn  ye.  You'll  be 
killed.  You'll  be  killed." 

Then  she  moaned,  but  whether  from  pain  of  body 
or  mind  I  could  not  guess. 

"Never  you  fear.  I'll  take  care  of  myself,"  I  said 
cheerily. 

She  looked  at  me  mournfully.  "I  am  killed  for 
ye,  dearie." 

I  started,  shocked  at  this  news. 

"There,"  she  continued  slowly,  "I  didn't  mean  to 
let  you  know.  But  they  thought  I  had  told  ye." 

"Then  I  have  two  reasons  instead  of  one  for  hold 
ing  to  my  task,"  I  said  solemnly.  "I  have  two 
friends  to  avenge." 

"You'll  make  the  third  yourself,"  groaned 
Mother  Borton,  "unless  they  put  a  knife  into  Bark- 
house,  first,  and  then  you'll  be  the  fourth  belike." 

"Barkhouse — do  you  know  where  he  is?" 

"He's  in  the  Den — on  Davis  Street,  you  know.  I 
was  near  forgetting  to  tell  ye.  Send  your  men  to 
get  him  to-night,  for  he's  hurt  and  like  to  die.  They 
^may  have  to  fight.  No, — don't  leave  me  now." 

"I  wasn't  going  to  leave  you." 

Mother  Borton  put  her  hand  to  her  throat  as 
though  she  choked,  and  was  silent  for  a  moment. 
Then  she  continued : 

"I'll  be  to  blame  if  I  don't  tell  you— I  must  tell 
you,  Are  you  listening?" 


A   VISION    OF   THE   NIGHT      333 

Her  voice  came  thick  and  strange,  and  her  eyes 
wandered  anxiously  about,  searching  the  heavy 
shadows  with  a  look  of  growing  fear. 

The  candle  burned  down  till  it  guttered  and  flick 
ered  in  its  pool  of  melted  tallow,  and  the  shadows  it 
threw  upon  wall  and  ceiling  seemed  instinct  with  an 
impish  life  of  their  own,  as  though  they  were  dark 
spirits  from  the  pit  come  to  mock  the  final  hours  of 
the  life  that  was  ebbing  away  before  me. 

"I  am  listening,"  I  replied. 

"You  must  know — you  must — know, — I  must 
tell  you.  The  boy — the  woman  is — " 

On  a  sudden  Mother  Borton  sat  bolt  upright  in 
bed,  and  a  shriek,  so  long,  so  shrill,  so  freighted 
with  terror,  came  from  her  lips  that  I  shrank  from 
her  and  trembled,  faint  with  the  horror  of  the  place. 

"They  come — there,  they  come!"  she  cried,  and 
throwing  up  her  arms  she  fell  back  on  the  bed. 

The  candle  shot  up  into  flame,  sputtered  an  in 
stant,  and  was  gone.  And  I  was  alone  with  the 
darkness  and  the  dead. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

A   LINK  IN    THE   CHAIN 

I  sprang  to  my  feet.  The  darkness  was  instinct 
with  nameless  terrors.  The  air  was  filled  with  name 
less  shapes.  A  spiritual  horror  surrounded  me,  and 
I  felt  that  I  must  reach  the  light  or  cry  out.  But 
before  I  had  covered  the  distance  to  the  door,  it  was 
flung  open  and  Corson  stood  on  the  threshold;  and 
at  the  sight  of  him  my  courage  returned  and  my 
shaken  nerves  grew  firm.  At  the  darkness  he  wav 
ered  and  cried : 

"What's  the  matter  here?" 

"She  is  dead." 

"Rest  her  sowl !  It's  a  fearsome  dark  hole  to  be 
in,  sor." 

I  shuddered  as  I  stood  beside  him,  and  brought 
the  lamp  from  the  bracket  in  the  hall. 

Mother  Borton  lay  back  staring  afTrightedly  at 
the  mystic  beings  who  had  come  for  her,  but  set 
tled  into  peace  as  I  closed  her  eyes  and  composed 
her  limbs. 

"She  was  a  rare  old  bird,"  said  Corson  when  I 
had  done,  "but  there  was  some  good  in  her,  after 
all" 

334 


A   LINK   IN   THE   CHAIN         335 

"She  has  been  a  good  friend  to  me,"  I  said,  and  we 
called  a  servant  from  below  and  left  the  gruesome 
room  to  his  guardianship. 

"And  now,  there's  another  little  job  to  be  done. 
There's  one  of  my  men  a  prisoner  down  on  Davis 
Street.  I  must  get  him  out." 

"I'm  with  you,  sor,"  said  Corson  heartily.  "I'm 
hopin'  there's  some  heads  to  be  cracked." 

I  had  not  counted  on  the  policeman's  aid,  but  I 
was  thankful  to  accept  the  honest  offer.  In  the 
restaurant  I  found  five  of  my  men,  and  with  this 
force  I  thought  that  I  might  safely  attempt  an  as 
sault  on  the  Den. 

The  Den  was  a  low,  two-story  building  of  brick, 
with  a  warehouse  below,  and  the  quarters  of  the 
enemy,  approached  by  a  narrow  stairway,  above. 

"Step  quietly,"  I  cautioned  my  men,  as  we  neared 
the  dark  and  forbidding  entrance.  "Keep  close  to 
the  shadow  of  the  buildings.  Our  best  chance  is  in  a 
surprise." 

There  was  no  guard  at  the  door  that  stood  open 
to  the  street,  and  we  halted  a  moment  before  it  to 
make  sure  of  our  plans. 

"It's  a  bad  hole,"  whispered  Corson. 

"A  fine  place  for  an  ambush,"  I  returned  dubi 
ously. 

"Well,  there's  no  help  for  it,"  said  the  policeman. 
"Come  on !"  And  drawing  his  club  and  revolver  he 
stole  noiselessly  up  the  stairs. 

I  felt  my  way  up  step  by  step,  one  hand  against 


336  BLINDFOLDED 

the  wall  and  my  shoes  scraping  cautiously  for  a  rest 
ing-place,  while  my  men  followed  in  single  file  with 
the  same  silent  care. 

But  in  spite  of  this  precaution,  we  were  not  two- 
thirds  the  way  up  the  flight  before  a  voice  shot  out 
of  the  darkness. 

"Who's  there?" 

We  stopped  and  held  our  breath.  There  was  a 
minute  of  silence,  but  it  was  broken  by  the  creak  of 
a  board  as  one  of  the  men  shifted  his  weight. 

"There's  some  one  here!"  cried  the  voice  above 
us.  "Halt,  or  I'll  shoot!  Peterson!  Conn!  Come 
quick!" 

There  was  no  more  need  for  silence,  and  Corson 
and  I  reached  the  landing  just  as  a  door  opened  that 
let  the  light  stream  fror L  within.  Two  men  had 
sprung  to  the  doorway,  and  another  could  be  seen 
faintly  outlined  in  the  dark  hall. 

"Holy  Mother !  it's  the  cops !"  came  in  an  awe- 
stricken  voice  at  the  sight  of  Corson's  star. 

"Right,  my  hearty !"  cried  Corson,  making  a  rush 
for  the  man,  who  darted  down  the  hall  in  an  effort 
to  escape.  The  two  men  jumped  back  into  the  room 
and  tried  to  close  the  door,  but  I  was  upon  them  be 
fore  they  could  swing  it  shut.  Four  of  my  men  had 
followed  me  close,  and  with  a  few  blows  given  and 
taken,  the  two  were  prisoners. 

"Tie  them  fast,"  I  ordered,  and  hastened  to  see 
how  Corson  fared. 

I  met  the  worthy  policeman  in  the  hall,  blown  but 


A   LINK    IN    THE    CHAIN         337 

exultant.  Owens  was  following  him,  and  between 
them  they  half-dragged,  half-carried  the  man  who 
had  given  the  alarm. 

"He  made  a  fight  for  it,"  puffed  Corson,  "but  I 
got  in  wan  good  lick  at  him  and  he  wilted.  You'll 
surrinder  next  time  when  I  tell  ye,  won't  ye,  me 
buck?" 

"Aren't  there  any  more  about  ?"  I  asked.  "There 
were  more  than  three  left  in  the  gang." 

"If  there  had  been  more  of  us,  you'd  never  have 
got  in,"  growled  one  of  the  prisoners. 

"Where's  Barkhouse?"  I  asked. 

"Find  him!"  \vas  the  defiant  reply. 

We  began  the  search,  opening  one  room  after  an 
other.  Some  were  sleeping-rooms,  some  the  meet 
ing-rooms,  while  the  one  we  had  first  entered  ap 
peared  to  be  the  guard-room. 

"Hello!  What's  this?"  exclaimed  Corson,  tap 
ping  an  iron  door,  such  as  closes  a  warehouse 
against  fire. 

"It's  locked,  sure  enough,"  said  Owens,  after 
trial. 

"It  must  be  the  place  we  are  looking  for,"  I  said. 
"Search  those  men  for  keys." 

The  search  was  without  result. 

"It's  a  sledge  we  must  get,"  said  Owens,  starting 
to  look  about  for  one. 

"Hould  on,"  said  Corson,  "I  was  near  forgetting. 
I've  got  a  master-key  that  fits  most  of  these  locks. 
It's  handy  for  closing  up  a  warehouse  when  some 


338  BLINDFOLDED 

clerk  with  his  wits  a-wandering  forgits  his  job.  So 
like  enough  it's  good  at  unlocking." 

It  needed  a  little  coaxing,  but  the  bolt  at  last  slid 
back  and  the  heavy  doors  swung  open.  The  room 
was  furnished  with  a  large  table,  a  big  desk,  and  a 
dozen  chairs,  which  sprang  out  of  the  darkness  as  I 
struck  a  match  and  lit  the  gas.  It  was  evidently  the 
council-room  of  the  enemy. 

"This  is  illigant,"  said  the  policeman,  looking 
around  with  approval;  "but  your  man  isn't  here, 
I'd  say." 

"Well,  it  looks  as  though  there  might  be  some 
thing  here  of  interest,"  I  replied,  seizing  eagerly 
upon  the  papers  that  lay  scattered  about  upon  the 
desk.  "Look  in  the  other  rooms  while  I  run  through 
these." 

A  rude  diagram  on  the  topmost  paper  caught  my 
eye.  It  represented  a  road  branching  thrice.  On  the 
third  branch  was  a  cross,  and  then  at  intervals  four 
crosses,  as  if  to  .mark  some  features  of  the  landscape. 
Underneath  was  written : 

"From  B — follow  I  1-2  m.  Take  third  road — 3 
or  5." 

The  paper  bore  date  of  that  day,  and  I  guessed 
that  it  was  meant  to  show  the  way  to  the  supposed 
hiding-place  of  the  boy. 

Then,  as  I  looked  again,  the  words  and  lines 
touched  a  cord  of  memory.  Something  I  had  seen 
or  known  before  was  vaguely  suggested.  I  groped 
in  the  obscurity  for  a  moment,  vainly  reaching  for 


A   LINK   IN    THE    CHAIN         339 

the  phantom  that  danced  just  beyond  the  grasp  of 
my  mental  fingers. 

There  was  no  time  to  lose  in  speculating,  and  I 
turned  to  the  work  that  pressed  before  us.  But  as  I 
thrust  the  papers  into  my  pocket  to  resume  the 
search  for  Barkhouse,  the  elusive  memory  flashed 
on  me.  The  diagram  of  the  enemy  recalled  the 
single  slip  of  paper  I  had  found  in  the  pocket  of 
Henry  Wilton's  coat  on  the  fatal  night  of  my  ar 
rival.  I  had  kept  it  always  with  me,  for  it  was  the 
sole  memorandum  left  by  him  of  the  business  that 
had  brought  him  to  his  death.  I  brought  it  out, 
very  badly  creased  and  rumpled  from  much  carry 
ing,  but  still  quite  as  legible  as  on  the  night  I  had 
first  seen  it. 

Placed  side  by  side  with  the  map  I  had  before  me, 
the  resemblance  was  less  close  than  I  had  thought. 
Yet  all  the  main  features  wrere  the  same.  There  was 
the  road  branching  thrice;  a  cross  in  both  marked 
the  junction  of  the  third  road  as  though  it  gave  sign 
of  a  building  or  some  natural  landmark;  and  the 
other  features  were  indicated  in  the  same  order.  No 
— there  was  a  difference  in  this  point;  there  were 
five  crosses  on  the  third  road  in  the  enemy's  dia 
gram,  while  there  were  but  four  in  mine. 

In  the  matter  of  description  the  enemy  had  the 
advantage,  slight  as  it  was. 

"Third  road — cockeyed  barn — iron  cow,"  and  the 
confused  jumble  of  drunken  letters  and  figures  that 
Henry  had  written — I  could  make  nothing  of  these. 


340  BLINDFOLDED 

"From  B— follow  11-2  m.  Take  third  road — 3  or 
5" — this  was  at  least  half-intelligible. 

Then  it  came  on  me  like  a  blow, — was  this  the 
mysterious  "key"  that  the  Unknown  had  demanded 
of  me  in  her  letter  of  this  morning?  I  turned  sick 
at  heart  at  the  thought  that  my  ignorance  and  inat 
tention  had  put  the  boy  in  jeopardy.  The  enemy 
had  perhaps  a  clue  to  the  hiding-place  that  the  Un 
known  did  not  possess.  The  desertion  of  these  head 
quarters  swelled  my  fears.  Though  Terrill,  dis 
abled  by  wounds,  was  groaning  with  pain  and  rage 
at  Livermore,  and  the  night's  arrests  at  Borton's 
had  reduced  the  numbers  of  the  band,  Darby  Meeker 
was  still  on  the  active  list.  And  Doddridge  Knapp  ? 
He  was  free  now  to  follow  his  desperate  plot  to  its 
end  without  risking  his  schemes  of  fortune.  The 
absence  of  Meeker,  the  date  of  to-day  upon  the  map, 
suggesting  that  it  had  but  just  come  into  the  hands 
of  the  enemy,  and  the  lack  of  a  garrison  in  the  Den, 
raised  the  apprehension  that  fresh  mischief  was 
afoot. 

I  was  roused  from  my  reverie  of  fears  by  con 
fused  shouts  from  down  the  hall,  and  sprang  hastily 
to  the  door,  with  the  thought  that  the  forces  of  the 
enemy  were  upon  us. 

"Here  he  is !  they've  found  him,"  cried  an  excited 
voice. 

"Yes,  sir!  here  he  comes!" 

It  was  truly  the  stalwart  guard ;  but  two  days  had 
made  a  sad  change  in  him.  With  head  bound  in  a 


A   LINK   IN   THE   CHAIN         341 

bloody  rag,  and  face  of  a  waxy  yellow  hue,  he  stag 
gered  limply  out  of  one  of  the  rear  rooms  between 
Corson  and  Owens. 

''Brace  up,  me  boy !  You're  worth  ten  dead  men," 
said  the  policeman  encouragingly.  "That's  right! 
you'll  be  yourself  in  a  jiffy." 

Barkhouse  was  soon  propped  up  on  the  lounge  in 
the  guard-room,  and  with  a  few  sips  of  whisky  and 
a  fresh  bandage  began  to  look  like  a  more  hopeful 
case. 

"  Twas  a  nasty  cut,"  said  one  of  the  men  sympa 
thetically. 

"How  did  you  get  it?"  I  asked. 

"I  don't  rightly  know,"  said  Barkhouse  faintly. 
"  'Twas  the  night  you  went  to  Mother  Borton's  last 
week.  After  I  leaves  you,  I  walks  down  a  piece  to 
wards  the  bay,  and  as  I  gets  about  to  Drumm  Street, 
I  guess,  a  fellow  comes  along  as  I  takes  to  be  a 
sailor  half-loaded.  'Hello,  mate,'  he  says,  a-trying 
to  steady  himself,  'what  time  did  you  say  it  was?' 
'I  didn't  say,'  says  I,  for  I  was  too  fly  to  take  out 
my  watch,  even  if  it  is  a  nickel-plater,  for  how  could 
he  tell  what  it  was  in  the  dark?  and  it's  good  for  a 
dozen  drinks  at  any  water-front  saloon.  'Well,  what 
do  you  make  it?'  he  says;  and  as  I  was  trying  to 
reckon  whether  it  was  nearer  twelve  or  one  o'clock, 
he  lurches  up  agin'  me  and  grabs  my  arms  as  if  to 
steady  himself.  Then  three  or  four  fellows  jumps 
from  behind  a  lot  of  packing-boxes  there,  and  grabs 
me.  I  makes  a  fight  for  it,  and  gives  one  yell,  and 


342  BLINDFOLDED 

the  next  I  knows  I  was  in  a  dark  room  here  with 
the  sorest  head  in  San  Francisco.  An'  I  reckon  I've 
been  here  about  six  days,  and  another  would  have 
finished  me." 

Barkhouse's  "six  days"  estimate  provoked  a 
smile. 

"If  you  could  get  paid  on  your  time  reckoning/' 
remarked  Owens  in  a  humorous  tone,  "you'd  be 
well  off,  Bob.  'Twas  night  before  last  you  got 
took  in." 

Barkhouse  looked  incredulous,  but  I  nodded  my 
support  of  Owens'  remarkable  statement. 

"However,  you'll  be  paid  on  your  own  reckon 
ing,  and  better,  too,"  I  said;  and  he  was  thereby 
consoled. 

"Now,  we  must  get  out  of  here,"  I  continued. 
"Take  turns  by  twos  in  helping  Barkhouse.  We  had 
better  not  risk  staying  here." 

"Right,"  said  Corson,  "and  now  we'll  just  take 
these  three  beauties  along  to  the  station." 

"On  what  charge?"  growled  the  man  addressed 
as  Conn. 

"Disturbing  the  peace — you've  disturbed  ours  for 
sure — resisting  an  officer,  vulgar  language,  keeping 
a  disorderly  house,  carrying  a  pistol  without  a  per 
mit,  and  anything  else  I  can  think  up  between  here 
and  the  station-house.  If  that  doesn't  satisfy  ye,  I'll 
put  ye  down  for  assault  and  robbery  on  Barkhouse's 
story,  and  ye  may  look  out  for  a  charge  of  murder 
before  ye  git  out." 


A   LINK  IN   THE   CHAIN         343 

The  men  swore  at  this  cheerful  prospect,  but  as 
their  hands  were  bound  behind  them,  and  Corson 
walked  with  his  club  in  one  hand  and  his  pistol  in  the 
other,  they  took  up  the  march  at  command,  and  the 
rest  of  us  slowly  followed. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE   CHASE   IN    THE   STORM 

When  we  i  cached  the  entrance  to  our  quarters  on 
Montgomery  Street  the  rain  had  once  more  begun 
to  fall,  gently  now,  but  the  gusts  of  damp  wind 
from  the  south  promised  more  and  worse  to  follow. 

"Hello!"  cried  the  first  man,  starting  back. 
"What's  this?" 

The  line  stopped,  and  I  moved  forward. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked. 

"A  message  for  you,  Mr.  Wilton,"  said  a  voice 
suddenly  from  the  recess  of  the  doorway. 

"Give  it  to  me,"  I  said. 

A  slip  of  paper  was  thrust  into  my  hand,  and  I 
passed  up  the  stairs. 

"I'll  wait  for  you/'  said  the  messenger,  and  at 
the  first  gas-jet  that  burned  at  the  head  of  the  stairs 
I  stopped  to  read  the  address. 

It  was  in  the  hand  of  the  Unknown,  and  my 
fatigue  and  indifference  were  gone  in  a  moment.  I 
trembled  as  I  tore  open  the  envelope,  and  read : 

"Follow  the  bearer  of  this  note  at  12:30.  Come 
alone  and  armed.  It  is  important." 

344 


THE  CHASE  IN  THE  STORM  345 

There  was  no  signature. 

If  this  meant  anything  it  meant  that  I  was  to 
meet  the  Unknown,  and  perhaps  to  search  the  heart 
of  the  mystery.  I  had  been  heavy  with  fatigue  and 
drowsy  with  want  of  sleep,  but  at  this  thought  the 
energies  of  life  were  once  more  fresh  within  me. 

With  my  new-found  knowledge  it  might  be  more 
important  than  even  the  Unknown  was  aware,  that 
we  should  meet.  To  me,  the  map,  the  absence  of 
Darby  Meeker  and  his  men,  the  mysterious  hints 
of  murder  and  death  that  had  come  from  the  lips  of 
Mother  Borton,  were  but  vaguely  suggestive.  But 
to  the  Unknown,  with  her  full  knowledge  of  the 
objects  sought  by  the  enemy  and  the  motives  that 
animated  their  ceaseless  pursuit,  the  darkness  might 
be  luminous,  the  obscurity  clear. 

The  men  had  waited  a  minute  for  me  as  I  read 
the  note. 

"Go  to  your  rooms  and  get  some  rest,"  I  said.  "I 
am  called  away.  Trent  will  be  in  charge,  and  I  will 
send  word  to  him  if  I  need  any  of  you." 

They  looked  at  me  in  blank  protest. 

"You're  not  going  alone,  sir?"  cried  Owens  in  a 
tone  of  alarm. 

"Oh,  no.  But  I  shall  not  need  a  guard."  I  hoped 
heartily  that  I  did  not. 

The  men  shook  their  heads  doubtfully,  and  I  con 
tinued  : 

"Corson  will  be  down  from  the  Central  Station  in 
fifteen  or  twenty  minutes.  Just  tell  him  that  I've 


346  BLINDFOLDED 

been  sent  for,  and  to  come  to-morrow  if  he  can 
make  it  in  his  way." 

And  bidding  them  good  night  I  ran  hastily  down 
the  stairs  before  any  of  the  men  could  frame  his  pro 
test  into  words. 

"Are  you  ready,  sir?"  asked  the  messenger. 

"It  is  close  on  half-past  twelve/'  I  answered. 
"Where  is  she?" 

"It's  not  far,"  said  my  guide  evasively. 

I  understood  the  danger  of  speech,  and  did  not 
press  for  an  answer. 

We  plunged  down  Montgomery  Street  in  the 
teeth  of  the  wind  that  dashed  the  spray  in  our  faces 
at  one  moment,  lulled  an  instant  the  better  to  de 
ceive  the  unwary,  and  then  leaped  at  us  from  behind 
corners  with  the  impetuous  rush  of  some  great  ani 
mal  that  turned  to  vapor  as  it  reached  us.  The  street 
was  dark  except  for  the  newspaper  offices,  which 
glowed  bright  with  lights  on  both  sides  of  the  way, 
J^usy  with  the  only  signs  of  life  that  the  storm  and 
the  midnight  hour  had  left. 

With  the  lighted  buildings  behind  us  we  turned 
down  California  Street.  Half-way  down  the  block, 
in  front  of  the  Merchants'  Exchange,  stood  a  hack. 
At  the  sight  my  heart  beat  fast  and  my  breath  came 
quick.  Here,  perhaps,  was  the  person  about  whom 
centered  so  many  of  my  hopes  and  fears,  in  whose 
service  I  had  faced  death,  and  whose  words  might 
serve  to  make  plain  the  secret  springs  of  the  mys 
tery. 


THE  CHASE  IN  THE  STORM  347 

As  we  neared  the  hack  my  guide  gave  a  short, 
suppressed  whistle,  and  passing  before  me,  flung 
open  the  door  to  the  vehicle  and  motioned  me  to 
enter.  I  glanced  about  with  some  lack  of  confidence 
oppressing  my  spirits.  But  I  had  gone  too  far  to  re 
treat,  and  stepped  into  the  hack.  Instead  of  follow 
ing,  the  guide  closed  the  door  gently;  I  heard  him 
mount  the  seat  by  the  driver,  and  in  a  moment  we 
were  in  motion. 

Was  I  alone?  I  had  expected  to  find  the  Un 
known,  but  the  dark  interior  gave  no  sign  of  a  com 
panion.  Then  the  magnetic  suggestion  of  the  pres 
ence  of  another  came  to  my  spirit,  and  a  faint  per 
fume  put  all  my  senses  on  the  alert.  It  was  the  scent 
that  had  come  to  me  with  the  letters  of  the  Un 
known.  A  slight  movement  made  me  certain  that 
some  one  sat  in  the  farther  corner  of  the  carriage. 

Was  it  the  Unknown  or  some  agent?  And  if  it 
proved  to  be  the  Unknown,  was  she  the  lady  I  had 
met  in  cold  business  greeting  in  the  courtyard  of  the 
Palace  Hotel?  I  waited  impatiently  for  the  first 
street-lamp  to  throw  a  gleam  of  light  into  the  car 
riage.  But  when  it  came  I  was  little  the  wiser.  If 
could  see  faintly  the  outlines  of  a  figure  shrouded  in, 
black  that  leaned  in  the  corner,  motionless  save  for 
the  swaying  and  pitching  of  the  hack  as  it  rolled 
swiftly  down  the  street. 

The  situation  became  a  little  embarrassing.  Was 
it  my  place  to  speak  first?  I  wondered.  At  last  I 
could  endure  the  silence  no  longer. 


348  BLINDFOLDED 

"Quite  an  unpleasant  evening,"  I  remarked  po 
litely. 

There  was  a  rustle  of  movement,  the  sound  of  a 
short  gasp,  and  a  soft,  mournful  voice  broke  on 
my  ear. 
i      "Mr.  Dudley — can  you  forgive  me?" 

The  astonishment  I  felt  to  hear  my  own  name 
once  more — the  name  that  seemed  now  to  belong  to 
a  former  state  of  existence — was  swallowed  up  as 
the  magnetic  tones  carried  their  revelation  to  my 
mind. 

I  was  stricken  dumb  for  a  moment  at  the  dis 
covery  they  had  brought.  Then  I  gasped : 

"Mrs.  Knapp!" 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Knapp,"  she  said  with  a  mournful 
laugh.  "Did  you  never  suspect?" 

I  was  lost  in  wonder  and  confusion,  and  even  yet 
could  not  understand. 

"What  brings  you  out  in  this  storm?"  I  asked, 
completely  mystified.  "I  thought  I  was  to  meet  an 
other  person." 

"Indeed?"  said  Mrs.  Knapp  with  a  spark  of  ani 
mation.  "Well,  I  am  the  other  person." 

I  was  paralyzed  in  mind  and  nerve  for  a  moment 
with  the  astonishment  of  the  disclosure.  Even  yet 
I  could  not  believe. 

"You!"  I  exclaimed  at  last.  "Are  you  the  pro 
tector  of  the  boy?  The  employer — "  Then  I 
stopped,  the  tangle  in  my  mind  beginning  to 
straighten  out. 


THE  CHASE  IN  THE  STORM  349 

"I  am  she,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp  gently. 

"Then,"  I  cried,  "who  is  he?  what  is  he?  what  is 
the  whole  dreadful  affair  about?  and  what — " 

Mrs.  Knapp  interrupted  me. 

"First  tell  me  what  has  become  of  Henry  Wil 
ton  ?"  she  said  with  sorrow  in  her  voice. 

The  dreadful  scene  in  the  alley  flashed  before  my 
mind. 

"He  is  dead." 

"Dead!  And  how?" 

"Murdered." 

"I  feared  so — I  was  certain,  or  he  would  have  let 
me  know.  You  have  much  to  tell  me.  But  first,  did 
he  leave  no  papers  in  your  hands  ?" 

I  brought  out  the  slip  that  bore  the  blind  dia 
gram  and  the  blinder  description  that  accompanied 
it.  Nothing  could  be  made  of  it  in  the  darkness,  so 
I  described  it  as  well  as  I  could. 

"We  are  on  the  right  track,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp. 
"Oh,  why  didn't  I  have  that  yesterday?  But  here— 
we  are  at  the  wharf." 

The  hack  had  stopped,  and  a  hand  was  fumbling 
at  the  door. 

The  darkness,  the  dash  of  water,  the  wind  whis 
tling  about  the  crazy  wooden  buildings  and  through 
the  rigging  of  ships,  made  the  water-front  vocal 
with  the  shouting  of  the  storm  demons  as  we 
alighted. 

My  guide  was  before  us,  and  we  followed  him 
down  the  pier,  struggling  against  the  gusts. 


350  BLINDFOLDED 

"Do  we  cross  the  bay?"  I  asked,  as  Mrs.  Knapp 
clung  to  my  arm.  "It's  not  safe  for  yon  in  a  small 
boat." 

"There's  a  tug  waiting  for  us,"  Mrs.  Knapp  ex 
plained. 

A  moment  later  we  saw  its  lights,  and  the  fire  of 
its  engine-room  shot  a  cheerful  glow  into  the  storm. 
The  little  vessel  swung  uneasily  at  its  berth  as  we 
made  our  way  aboard,  and  with  shouts  of  men  and 
clang  of  bells  it  was  soon  tossing  on  the  dark  waters 
of  the  bay.  Out  from  the  shelter  of  the  wharves  the 
wind  buffeted  us  wildly,  and  the  black  waves  were 
threshed  into  phosphorescent  foam  against  the  sides 
of  the  tug,  while  their  crests,  self-luminous, 
stretched  away  in  changing  lines  of  faint,  ghostly 
fire. 

The  cabin  of  the  tug  was  fitted  with  a  shelf  table, 
and  over  it  swung  a  lamp  of  brass  that  gave  a  dim 
light  to  the  little  room.  Mrs.  Knapp  seated  herself 
here,  as  the  boat  pitched  and  tossed  and  trembled  at 
the  strokes  of  the  waves  and  quivered  to  the  throb 
bing  of  the  screw,  spread  out  the  paper  I  had  given 
her,  and  studied  the  diagram  and  the  jumble  of  let 
ters  with  anxious  attention. 

"It  is  the  same,"  she  said  at  last;  "in  part,  at 
least." 

"The  same  as  what?"  I  asked. 

"As  the  one  I  got  word  of  to-night,  you  know," 
she  replied. 

"No— I  didn't  know." 


THE  CHASE  IN  THE  STORM  351 

"Of  course  not,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp.  "But  you 
might  have  guessed  that  I  got  my  summons  after 
you  left,  this  evening.  I  should  have  spoken  to  you 
then  if  I  had  known.  I  was  near  coming  to  an  ex 
planation,  as  it  was." 

"There  are  a  good  many  things  I  haven't 
guessed,"  I  confessed. 

"But,"  she  continued,  returning  to  the  map,  "this 
gives  a  different  place.  I  was  to  go  to  the  cross-road 
here," — indicating  the  mark  at  the  last  branch. 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  that,"  said  I,  taking  out  the  dia 
gram  I  had  found  in  the  citadel  of  the  enemy.  "This 
seems  to  point  to  a  different  place,  too,  and  I  really 
hope  that  the  gentleman  who  drew  this  map  is  a 
good  wray  off  from  the  truth." 

"Where  did  you  get  this?"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Knapp. 

I  described  the  circumstances  in  as  few  words  as  I 
could  command. 

"They  are  ahead  of  us,"  she  said  in  alarm. 

"They  have  started  first,  I  suppose,"  was  my  sug 
gestion. 

"And  they  have  the  right  road." 

"Then  our  only  hope  is  that  they  may  not  know 
the  right  place." 

"God  grant  it,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp. 

She  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  and  I  saw  that 
her  eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 

I  was  moved  by  her  signs  of  feeling.  I  thought 
they  were  for  the  boy  and  was  about  to  ask  what 


352  BLINDFOLDED 

would  happen  to  him  in  case  he  was  found  by  the 
enemy,  when  she  said : 

"Now  tell  me  about  Henry  Wilton — how  he  died 
and  when." 

Again  the  vision  of  my  first  dreadful  night  in 
San  Francisco  rose  before  me,  the  cries  for  help 
from  my  murdered  friend  rang  in  my  ears,  and  the 
scene  in  the  alley  and  the  figure  in  the  morgue 
hurned  before  my  eyes. 

I  told  the  tale  as  it  had  happened,  and  as  I  told 
it  I  read  in  the  face  before  me  the  varying  emotions 
of  alarm,  horror  and  grief  that  were  stirred  by  its 
Incidents. 

But  one  tiling  I  could  not  tell  her.  The  wolf-face 
I  had  seen  in  the  lantern  flash  in  the  alley  I  could  not 
name  nor  describe  to  the  wife  of  Doddridge  Knapp. 
Yet  at  the  thought  the  dark  mystery  grew  darker 
yet,  and  I  began  to  doubt  what  my  eyes  had  seen 
and  my  ears  had  heard. 

Mrs.  Knapp  bowed  her  head  in  deep,  gloomy 
thought. 

"I  feared  it,  yet  he  would  not  listen  to  my  warn 
ings,"  she  murmured.  "He  would  work  his  own 
way."  Then  she  looked  me  suddenly  straight  in  the 
face. 

"And  why  did  you  take  his  place,  his  name?  Why' 
did  you  try  to  do  his  work  when  you  had  seen  the 
dreadful  end  to  which  it  had  brought  him  ?" 

I  confessed  that  it  was  half  through  the  insistence 
of  Detective  Coogan  that  I  was  Henry  Wilton, 


THE  CHASE  IN  THE  STORM  353 

half  through  the  course  of  events  that  seemed  to 
make  it  the  easiest  road  to  reach  the  vengeance  that 
I  had  vowed  to  bring  the  murderer  of  my  friend. 

"You  are  bent  on  avenging  him?"  asked  Mrs. 
Knapp  thoughtfully. 

"I  have  promised  it." 

"You  shall  have  the  chance.  Strange  thought!" 
she  said  gloomily,  "that  the  dead  hand  of  Henry 
Wilton  may  reach  out  from  beyond  the  grave  and 
strike  at  his  slayer  when  he  least  expects  it." 

I  was  more  than  ever  mystified  at  these  words.  I 
had  not  expected  her  to  take  so  philosophically  to 
the  idea  of  hanging  Doddridge  Knapp,  and  I 
thought  it  best  to  hold  my  tongue. 

"I  have  marveled  at  you,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp  after 
a  pause.  "I  marvel  at  you  yet.  You  have  carried  off 
your  part  well." 

"Not  well  enough,  it  seems,  to  deceive  you,"  I 
said,  a  little  bitterly. 

"You  should  not  have  expected  to  deceive  me," 
said  Mrs.  Knapp.  "But  you  can  imagine  the  shock 
I  had  when  I  saw  that  it  was  not  Henry  Wilton  who 
had  come  among  us  that  first  night  when  I  called 
you  from  Mr.  Knapp's  room." 

"You  certainly  succeeded  in  concealing  any  sur 
prise  you  may  have  felt,"  I  said.  "You  are  a  better 
actor  than  I." 

Mrs.  Knapp  smiled. 

"It  was  more  than  surprise — it  was  consterna 
tion,"  she  said,  "I  had  been  anxious  at  receiving  no 


354  BLINDFOLDED 

word  from  Henry.  I  suppose  you  got  my  notes. 
And  when  I  saw  you  I  was  torn  with  doubts,  won 
dering  whether  anything  had  happened  to  Henry, 
whether  he  had  sent  you  in  his  stead  as  a  practical 
joke,  whether  you  knew  much  or  little  or  nothing  of 
our  affairs — in  short,  I  was  overwhelmed." 

"I  didn't  suppose  I  was  quite  so  poor  an  im 
postor/'  I  said  apologetically,  with  a  qualm  at  the 
word.  "Though  I  did  get  some  hint  of  it,"  I  added, 
with  a  painful  recollection  of  the  candid  statement 
of  opinion  I  had  received  from  the  daughter  of  the 
house. 

"Oh,  you  did  very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp  kindly, 
"but  no  one  could  have  been  successful  in  that  house. 
Luella  was  quite  outraged  over  it,  but  I  managed  to 
quiet  her." 

"I  hope  Miss  Knapp  has  not  retained  the  unfavor 
able  impressions  of— er — "  I  stammered  in  much 
confusion. 

Mrs.  Knapp  gave  me  a  keen  glance. 

"You  know  she  has  not,"  she  said. 

I  felt  the  subconscious  impression  somehow  that 
after  all  Mrs.  Knapp  would  have  been  better  pleased 
if  Luella  had  kept  nearer  to  her  first  impressions 
of  me. 

"Well,"  continued  Mrs.  Knapp,  "when  I  saw  you 
and  guessed  that  something  had  happened  to  Henry 
Wilton,  and  found  that  you  knew  little  of  what  was 
going  on,  I  changed  the  plan  of  campaign.  I  did  not 
know  that  you  were  one  to  be  trusted,  but  I  saw 


THE  CHASE  IN  THE  STORM  355 

that  you  could  be  used  to  keep  the  others  on  a  false 
scent,  for  you  deceived  everybody  but  us." 

"There  was  one  other,"  I  said. 

"Mother  Borton?"  inquired  Mrs.  Knapp.  "Yes, 
I  learned  that  she  knew  you.  But  to  every  one  else 
in  the  city  you  were  Henry  Wilton.  I  feared,  though, 
you  would  make  some  mistake  that  would  betray  you 
and  spoil  my  plans.  But  you  have  succeeded  marvel- 
ously." 

Mrs.  Knapp  paused  a  moment  and  then  continued 
slowly.  "It  was  cruel  of  me.  I  knew  that  it  was 
sending  you  to  face  death.  But  I  was  alarmed, 
angry  at  the  imposition,  and  felt  that  you  had 
brought  it  on  yourself.  Can  you  forgive  me?" 

"I  have  nothing  to  forgive,"  I  said. 

"I  would  have  spoken  when  I  found  you  for  what 
you  are,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp,  "but  I  thought  until  the 
Livermore  trip  that  you  could  serve  me  best  as  you 
were  doing," 

"It  was  blind  work,"  I  said. 

"It  was  blind  enough  for  you,  not  for  me.  I  was 
deceived  in  one  thing,  however ;  I  thought  that  you 
had  no  papers — nothing  from  Henry  that  could  help 
or  hurt.  The  first  night  you  came  to  us  I  had  Hen 
ry's  room  thoroughly  searched." 

"Oh,  I  was  indebted  to  you  for  that  attention,"  I 
exclaimed.  "I  gave  our  friends  of  the  other  house 
the  credit." 

Mrs.  Knapp  smiled  again. 

"I  thought  it  necessary.    It  was  the  chance 


556  BLINDFOLDED 

you  did  not  sleep  there  that  night  that  kept  this  pa* 
per  out  of  my  hands  weeks  ago." 

"I  have  always  kept  it  with  me,"  I  said. 

"I  did  not  need  it  till  Sunday,"  continued  Mrs. 
Knapp.  "I  have  been  worried  much  at  the  situa 
tion  of  the  boy,  but  I  did  not  dare  go  near  him. 
Henry  and  I  decided  that  his  hiding-place  was  not 
safe.  We  had  talked  of  moving  him  a  few  days  be 
fore  you  came.  When  I  found  that  Henry  had  dis 
appeared  I  was  anxious  to  make  the  change,  but  I 
could  not  venture  to  attempt  it  until  the  others  were 
out  of  town,  for  I  knew  I  was  watched.  Then  I  was 
assured  from  Mother  Borton  that  they  did  not  know 
where  the  boy  was  hidden,  and  I  let  the  matter  rest. 
But  a  few  days  ago — on  Saturday — she  sent  me 
word  that  she  thought  they  had  found  the  place. 
Then  it  came  to  me  to  send  you  to  Livermore  with 
the  other  boy — oh,  I  hope  no  harm  came  to  the  little 
fellow,"  she  exclaimed  anxiously. 

"He's  safe  at  my  rooms  in  charge  of  Wain- 
wright,"  I  said.  "He  got  back  on  the  morning  train, 
and  can  be  had  for  the  asking." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp.  "I  was 
afraid  something  would  happen  to  him,  but  I  had 
to  take  desperate  chances.  Well,  you  see  my  plan 
succeeded.  They  all  followed  you.  But  when  I 
went  to  the  hiding-place  the  boy  was  gone.  Henry 
had  moved  him  weeks  ago,  and  had  died  before  he 
could  tell  me.  Then  I  thought  you  might  know 
more  than  you  had  told  me — that  Henry  Wilton 


THE   CHASE    IN   THE   STORM     357 

might  have  got  you  to  help  him  when  he  made  the 
change,  and  I  wrote  to  you/' 

"And  the  key,"  I  said,  remembering  the  expres 
sion  of  the  note.  "Did  you  mean  this  diagram?'* 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp.  "I  meant  the  key  to  our 
cipher  code.  I  was  looking  over  Henry's  letters  for 
some  hint  of  a  hiding-place  and  could  not  find  the 
key  to  the  cipher.  I  thought  you  might  have  been 
given  one.  I  found  mine  this  afternoon,  though, 
and  there  was  no  need  of  it,  so  it  didn't  matter 
after  all." 

The  pitching  and  tossing  of  the  boat  had  ceased 
for  some  minutes,  and  at  this  point  the  captain  of 
the  tug  opened  the  cabin. 

"Excuse  me,"  he  said  apologetically,  uncertain 
whether  to  address  Mrs.  Knapp  or  me,  and  includ 
ing  us  both  in  the  question,  "but  where  did  you 
want  to  land?" 

"At  Broadway,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp. 

"Then  you're  there,"  said  the  captain. 

And,  a  minute  later,  with  clang  of  bells  and  groan 
of  engine  we  were  at  the  wharf  and  were  helped 
ashore. 

On  this  side  of  the  bay  the  wind  had  fallen,  and 
there  were  signs  of  a  break  in  the  clouds.  The  dark 
ness  of  the  hour  was  dimly  broken  by  the  rays  from 
the  lines  of  street-lamps  that  stretched  at  intervals 
on  both  sides  of  Broadway,  making  the  gloom  of  the 
place  and  hour  even  more  oppressive. 

"Tell  the  captain  to  wait  here  for  us  with  fires 


358  BLINDFOLDED 

up,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp.  "The  carriage  should  be 
somewhere  around  here,"  she  continued,  peering 
anxiously  about  as  we  reached  the  foot  of  the 
wharf. 

The  low  buildings  by  the  railroad  track  were  but 
piles  of  blackness,  and  about  them  I  could  see  noth 
ing. 

"This  way,"  said  a  familiar  voice,  and  a  man 
stepped  from  the  shadow. 

"Dicky  Nahl!"  I  exclaimed. 

"Mr.  Wilton!"  mimicked  Dicky.  "But  it's  just 
as  well  not  to  speak  so  loud.  Here  you  are.  I  put 
the  hack's  lights  out  just  to  escape  unpleasant  re 
mark.  We  had  better  be  moving,  for  it's  a  stiffish 
drive  of  six  or  seven  miles.  If  you'll  get  in,  I'll 
keep  the  seat  with  the  driver  and  tell  him  the  way 
to  go." 

Mrs.  Knapp  entered  the  carriage,  and  called  to  me 
to  follow  her. 

I  remembered  Mother  Borton's  warnings  and  my 
doubts  of  Dicky  Nahl. 

"You're  certain  you  know  where  you  are  going  ?" 
I  asked  him  in  an  undertone. 

j  "No,  I'm  not,"  said  Dicky  frankly.  "I've  found  a 
man  who  says  he  knows.  We  are  to  meet  him. 
We'll  get  there  between  three  and  four  o'clock.  He 
won't  say  another  word  to  anybody  but  her  or  you. 
I  guess  he  knows  what  he  is  about." 

"Well,  keep  your  eyes  open.  Meeker's  gang  is 
ahead  of  us.  Is  the  driver  reliable?" 


THE    CHASE    IN    THE    STORM     359 

"Right  as  a  judge/5  said  Dicky  cheerfully.  "Now, 
if  you'll  get  in  with  madam  we  won't  be  wasting 
time  here." 

I  stepped  into  the  carriage.  Dicky  Nahl  closed  the 
door  softly  and  climbed  on  the  seat  by  the  driver, 
and  in  a  moment  we  were  rolling  up  Broadway  in 
the  gloomy  stillness  of  the  early  morning  hour. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE  HEART  OF  THE  MYSTERY 

In  the  tumult  of  conflicting  thoughts  that  as 
sailed  me  as  we  entered  on  the  last  stage  of  our 
journey,  the  idea  of  the  perils  that  might  lie  ahead 
fixed  my  attention  for  the  moment,  and  I  began  to 
feel  alarm  for  the  safety  of  my  companion. 

"Mrs.  Knapp,"  I  said ;  "there  is  no  need  for  you  to 
take  this  journey.  You  had  better  stop  in  Oakland 
for  the  rest  of  the  night." 

"I  must  go,"  she  replied. 

"There  is  danger,"  I  argued.  "You  should  not  ex 
pose  yourself  to  the  chances  of  a  brush  with  the 
enemy.  It  is  a  wet,  cold  ride,  and  there  may  be 
bullets  flying  at  the  end  of  it." 

Mrs.  Knapp  gave  a  shudder,  but  she  spoke  firmly. 

"I  could  not  rest — I  could  not  stay  away.  It  may 
be  important  that  I  should  be  there — it  will  be  im 
portant  if  we  find  the  boy.  You  do  not  know  him. 
Mr.  Nahl  does  not  know  him." 

"None  of  my  men  seems  to  know  him,"  I  inter 
rupted;  "that  is,  if  one  may  judge  by  the  way  they 
were  all  taken  in  on  the  boy  you  sent  to  Liver- 


rnore." 


360 


THE  HEARTOFTHE  MYSTERY     361 

"I  think  none  of  them  ever  saw  his  face,  though 
some  of  them  were  with  Henry  Wilton  when  he 
first  took  the  boy,  and  afterward/' 

'The  enemy  seem  to  know  him,"  said  I,  remem-^ 
bering  the  scene  at  Livermore. 

'Terr ill  knows  him.  I  think  none  of  the  other 
agents  could  be  certain  of  his  face,  unless  it  is  Mr. 
Meeker.  But  truly,  I  must  go." 

"You  are  very  brave,"  I  said,  admiring  her  spirit, 
though  I  was  loath  to  have  the  responsibility  of  her 
safety  on  my  hands. 

"Without  you  I  should  not  dare  to  go,  I  fear," 
she  made  answer.  "I  need  a  strong  arm  to  lean  on, 
you  see." 

"You  may  wish  later  that  you  had  chosen  a 
cavalier  with  two  strong  arms  to  his  equipment.  I 
fear  I  shouldn't  do  so  well  in  a  hand-to-hand  en 
counter  as  I  should  have  done  before  I  met  Mr. 
Terrill  last  night." 

'"Oh,  I  hope  it  will  not  come  to  that,"  said  Mrs. 
Knapp  cheerfully,  though  there  was  a  little  tremor 
in  her  voice. 

"What  if  they  have  seized  the  boy?" 

Mrs.  Knapp  was  silent  for  a  little,  as  if  this  con 
tingency  had  not  entered  her  plans. 

"We  must  follow  him  and  save  him,  even  if  we 
have  to  raise  the  whole  county  to  do  it."  Her  voice 
was  firm  and  resolute. 

"What  would  happen  to  the  boy  if  he  were 
taken?"  I  found  courage  to  ask. 


362  BLINDFOLDED 

"He  would  not  live  a  month,"  she  replied. 

"Would  he  be  murdered?" 

"I  don't  know  how  the  end  would  come.  Bui  I 
know  he  would  die." 

I  was  in  the  shadow  of  the  mystery.  A  hundred 
questions  rose  to  my  lips;  but  behind  them  all 
frowned  the  grim  wolf- visage  of  Doddridge  Knapp, 
and  I  could  not  find  the  courage  that  could  make 
me  speak  to  them. 

"Mrs.  Knapp,"  I  said,  "you  have  called  me  by  my 
name.  I  had  almost  forgotten  that  I  had  ever  be  rue 
it.  I  have  lived  more  in  the  last  month  than  in  the 
twenty-five  years  that  I  remember  before  it,  and  I 
have  almost  come  to  think  that  the  old  name  be 
longs  to  some  one  else.  May  I  ask  how  you  got 
hold  of  it?" 

"It  was  simple  enough.  Henry  had  told  me  about 
you.  I  remembered  that  you  were  coming  from  the 
same  town  he  had  come  from.  I  telegraphed  to  an 
agent  in  Boston.  He  went  up  to  your  place,  made 
his  inquiries  and  telegraphed  me.  I  suppose  you 
[will  be  pleased  to  know,"  she  continued  with  a  droll 
affectation  of  malice  in  her  voice,  "that  he  mailed 
me  your  full  history  as  gathered  from  the  town 
pump.  It  is  at  the  house  now." 

"I  trust  it  is  nothing  so  very  disreputable,"  I 
said  modestly,  raking  my  memory  hastily  for  any 
likely  account  of  youthful  escapades. 

"There  was  one  rather  serious  bit,"  said  Mrs. 
Knapp  gravely.  "There  was  an  orchard — " 


THEHEARTOFTHE  MYSTERY     363 

"There  was  more  than  one,"  I  admitted. 

Mrs.  Knapp  broke  into  a  laugh. 

"I  might  have  expected  it.  I  knew  the  account 
was  too  good  to  be  true.  You'll  have  to  get  Luella's 
permission  if  you  want  to  read  the  charges  in  full, 
though.  She  has  taken  possession  of  the  document.", 

Luella  knew!  At  first  I  was  disappointed,  then^ 
relieved.  Something  of  the  promised  explanation 
was  taken  off  my  mind. 

"I  tried  to  get  something  out  of  Mother  Borton 
concerning  you,"  continued  Mrs.  Knapp.  "I  even 
went  so  far  as  to  see  her  once." 

"I  don't  think  you  got  any  more  out  of  her  than 
she  wanted  to  tell." 

"Indeed  I  did  not.  I  was  afraid  Mr.  Richmond 
had  not  gone  about  it  the  right  way.  You  know  Mr. 
Richmond  acted  as  my  agent  with  her?" 

"No,  I  didn't  know.  She  was  as  close-mouthed 
with  me  as  with  you,  I  think." 

"Well,  I  saw  her.  I  wanted  to  get  what  informa 
tion  she  had  of  you  and  of  Henry." 

"She  had  a  good  deal  of  it,  if  she  wanted  to  give 
it  up." 

"So  I  supposed.  But  she  was  too  clever  for  me.' 
She  spoke  well  of  you,  but  not  a  word  could  I  get 
from  her  about  Henry.  Yet  she  gave  me  the  idea 
that  she  knew  much." 

"I  should  think  she  might.  I  had  told  her  the 
whole  story." 

"She  is  a  strange  woman." 


364  BLINDFOLDED 

"She  \\as  able  to  hold  her  tongue." 

"A  strange  gift,  you  mean  to  say,  I  suppose/' 
laughed  Mrs.  Knapp. 

"She  was  quite  as  successful  in  concealing  from 
me  the  fact  that  she  had  ever  had  word  with  you, 
though  I  suspected  that  she  knew  more  than  she 
jtold." 

"She  is  used  to  keeping  secrets,  I  suppose,"  re 
plied  Mrs.  Knapp.  "But  I  must  reward  her  well  for 
what  she  has  done." 

"She  is  beyond  fear  or  reward." 

"Dead?"  cried  Mrs.  Knapp  in  a  shocked  voice. 
"And  how?" 

"She  died,  I  fear,  because  she  befriended  me." 
And  then  I  told  her  the  story  of  Mother  Borton's 
end. 

"Poor  creature!"  said  Mrs.  Knapp  sadly.  "Yet 
perhaps  it  is  better  so.  She  has  died  in  doing  a 
good  act." 

"She  was  a  good  friend  to  me,"  I  said.  "I  should 
have  been  in  the  morgue  before  her,  I  fear,  but  for 
her  good  will." 

Mrs.  Knapp  was  silent  for  a  minute. 

"I  hope  we  are  at  the  end  of  the  tale  of  death," 
she  said  at  last.  "It  is  dreadful  that  insane  greed 
and  malice  should  spread  their  evil  so  far  about. 
Two  lives  have  been  sacrificed  already,  and  per 
haps  it  is  only  the  beginning.  Yet  I  believe — I  am 
s-ure- — I  have  done  right." 

"I  am  sure  of  that,"  I  said,  and  then  was  silent 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  MYSTERY  365 

as  her  words  called  up  the  image  of  the  Wolf,  dark, 
forbidding,  glowing  with  the  fires  of  hate — the  Wolf 
of  the  lantern-flash  in  the  alley  and  the  dens  of 
Chinatown — and  the  mystery  seemed  deeper  than 
ever. 

The  carriage  had  been  rolling  along  swiftly. 
Despite  the  rain  the  streets  were  smooth  and  hard, 
and  we  made  rapid  progress.  We  had  crossed  a 
bridge,  and  with  many  turns  made  a  course  toward 
the  southeast.  Now  the  ground  became  softer,  and 
progress  was  slow.  An  interminable  array  of  trees 
lined  the  way  on  both  sides,  and  to  my  impatient  im 
agination  stretched  for  miles  before  us.  Then  the 
road  became  better,  and  the  horses  trotted  briskly 
forward  again,  their  hoofs  pattering  dully  on  the 
softened  ground. 

"All  the  better,"  I  thought.  "It's  as  good  as  a 
muffler  if  any  one  is  listening  for  us." 

"Here's  the  place,"  came  the  voice  of  Dicky,  giv 
ing  directions  to  the  driver;  and  the  carriage  slack 
ened  pace  and  stopped.  Looking  out  I  saw  that  we 
were  at  a  division  of  the  road  where  a  two-story 
house  faced  both  of  the  branching  ways. 

"You'd  better  come  out,"  said  Dicky  at  the  door, 
addressing  his  remark  to  me.  "He  was  to  meet  us 
here." 

"Be  careful,"  cautioned  Mrs.  Knapp. 

The  night  had  turned  colder,  or  I  was  chilled  by 
the  inaction  of  the  ride.  The  sky  was  clearing,  and 
stars  were  to  be  seen.  By  the  outline  of  the  hills 


366  BLINDFOLDED 

we  had  made  to  the  south.   The  horses  steamed  and 
breathed  heavily  in  the  keen  air. 

I  kept  my  hand  on  the  revolver  that  lay  in  my 
overcoat  pocket,  and  walked  with  Dicky  on  to  the 
porch.  It  was  a  common  roadside  saloon,  and  at 
this  hour  it  appeared  wholly  deserted.  Even  the 
dog,  without  which  I  knew  no  roadside  saloon 
could  exist,  was  as  silent  as  its  owners. 

"Here's  a  go !"  said  Dicky.  "He  was  to  meet  us, 
sure.  What  time  have  you  got  ?" 

I  struck  a  match  in  a  corner  and  looked  at  my 
watch  by  its  flare. 

"Five  minutes  to  three." 

"Whew!"  he  whispered,  "we're  regularly  done. 
I  thought  he  had  a  bad  eye  when  I  was  bargaining 
with  him/' 

I  wondered  if  Dicky  had  a  hand  in  the  trick,  if 
trick  it  should  prove  to  be. 

"He  may  be  up  stairs,"  I  suggested. 

Dicky  groaned.  "It's  like  advertising  with  a  band 
wagon  to  rout  'em  out  at  this  time  of  the  night," 
he  whispered. 

"The  enemy  have  been  along  here  ahead  of  us," 
I  said.  "They  may  have  picked  him  up." 

"That's  like  enough,"  said  Dicky  ruefully.  "But 
if  they've  got  him,  we  might  as  well  take  the  back 
tracks  for  town  and  hunt  up  a  sheriff  or  two,  or  send 
for  the  boys  to  come  over." 

"It's  too  late  to  do  that,"  said  I  decidedly.  "We 
must  go  on  at  once." 


THEHE  A  RTOFTHE  MYSTERY     367 

"Well,"  said  Dicky  dubiously,  "I  think  I  know 
where  the  fellow  would  have  taken  us.  I  trailed  him 
this  afternoon,  and  I'll  lay  two  to  one  that  I  can 
pick  out  the  right  road." 

"Is  this  the  third  road  from  Brooklyn?"  I  asked 
pointing  to  the  track  that  led  to  the  left. 

"I  reckon  so,"  said  Dicky  0  "I  haven't  kept  count, 
but  I  recollect  only  two  before  it." 

"All  right.   Up  with  you  then !" 

Dicky  obediently  mounted  to  the  seat  beside  the 
driver. 

"I  shall  ride  outside,"  I  said  to  Mrs.  Knapp.  "I 
may  be  needed." 

"I  suppose  you  are  right,"  she  replied  with  some 
what  of  protest  in  her  voice,  and  I  closed  the  door, 
and  climbed  up.  It  was  close  quarters  for  three, 
but  at  the  word  the  horses,  refreshed  by  the  brief 
rest,  rolled  the  carriage  up  the  road  that  led  to  the 
hills. 

Half  a  mile  farther  we  passed  a  house,  and  within 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  another. 

"We  are  on  the  right  road,"  was  my  thought  as 
I  compared  these  in  my  mind  with  the  crosses  on 
the  diagram. 

About  half  a  mile  farther,  a  small  cluster  of  build 
ings  loomed  up,  dark  and  obscure,  by  the  roadside. 

"This  is  the  place,"  I  said  confidently,  motioning 
the  driver  to  pull  up.  I  remembered  that  Henry 
Wilton's  map  had  stopped  at  the  third  cross  from 
the  parting  of  the  roads. 


36$  BLINDFOLDED 

"No,  it  isn't,"  said  Dicky  eagerly.  "It's  two  or 
three  miles  farther  on.  I  trailed  the  fellow  myself  to 
the  next  house,  and  that's  a  good  two  miles  at  least." 

I  had  leaped  to  the  ground,  and  opened  the  door 
of  the  carriage. 

"We  are  at  the  fourth  place,"  I  said. 

"And  the  cockeyed  barn?"  inquired  Mrs.  Knapp, 
peering  out. 

I  was  struck  silent  by  this,  and  looked  blankly  at 
the  dark  forbidding  structure  that  fronted  on  the 
road. 

"You're  right,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp  with  a  laugh. 
"Can't  you  make  out  that  funny  little  window  at  the 
end  there?" 

I  looked  more  closely  at  the  building,  In  the  dim 
light  of  the  stars,  the  coat  of  whitewash  that  covered 
it  made  it  possible  to  trace  the  outlines  of  a  window 
in  the  gable  that  fronted  the  road.  Some  freak  of  the 
builder  had  turned  it  a  quarter  of  the  way  around, 
giving  it  a  comical  suggestion  of  a  man  with  a  droop 
to  his  eye. 

"And  the  iron  cow?"  I  asked. 

"Stupid !  a  pump,  of  course/'  replied  Mrs.  Knapp 
with  another  laugh.  "Now  see  if  there  is  a  lane  here 
by  the  barn." 

A  narrow  roadway,  just  wide  enough  for  a  single 
wagon,  joined  the  main  road  at  the  corner  of  the 
building. 

"Then  drive  up  it  quietly,"  was  Mrs.  Knapp's  di 
rection. 


THEHEARTOFTHE  MYSTERY     369 

Just  beyond  the  barn  I  made  out  the  figure  of 
the  pump  in  a  conspicuous  place  by  the  roadside, 
and  felt  more  confident  that  we  were  on  the  right 
road. 

The  lane  was  now  wrapped  in  Egyptian  dark 
ness.  Trees  lined  both  sides  of  the  narrow  way. 
Their  branches  brushed  our  faces  as  we  passed,  and 
their  tops  seemed  to  meet  above  us  till  even  the  faint 
light  of  the  stars  scarcely  glimmered  through.  The 
hoofs  of  the  horses  splashed  in  the  mud,  and  the 
rather  clumsy  carriage  dragged  heavily  and  slowly 
forward. 

"I'd  give  five  dollars  to  light  my  lamps,"  growled 
the  driver.  We  were  traveling  by  the  instinct  of  the 
horses. 

"If  your  life  is  worth  more  than  five  dollars,  you'd 
better  keep  them  dark,"  I  said. 

The  driver  swore  in  an  undertone  as  the  hack 
lurched  and  groaned  in  a  boggy  series  of  ruts,  and  a 
branch  whipped  him  in  the  face.  I  was  forced  to 
give  a  grunt  myself,  as  another  slapped  my  sore  arm 
and  sent  a  sharp  twinge  of  pain  shooting  from  the 
wound  till  it  tingled  in  my  toes.  Dicky,  protected 
between  us,  chuckled  softly.  I  reflected  savagely 
that  nothing  spoils  a  man  for  company  like  a  mis 
taken  sense  of  humor. 

Suddenly  the  horses  stopped  so  short  that  we  were 
almost  pitched  out. 

"Hello!  what's  this?"  I  cried,  drawing  my  re 
volver,  fearful  of  an  ambush. 


370  BLINDFOLDED 


"It's  a  fence,"  said  the  driver. 

"There  must  be  a  gate,"  I  said,  jumping  down 
quickly. 

Mrs.  Knapp  rapped  on  the  carriage  door  and  I 
opened  it. 

"Have  you  come  to  the  bars?"  she  asked  pres 
ently.. 

"I  guess  so.  We've  come  against  something  like 
a  fence." 

"Well,  then,"  she  replied,  ^"when  we  get  through, 
take  the  road  to  the  left.  That  will  bring  us  to  the 
house." 

"You  are  certain?" 

"That  is  what  Henry  wrote  in  the  cipher  beneath 
the  map.  The  house  must  be  only  a  few  hundred 
yards  away." 

The  bars  were  there,  and  I  lifted  the  wet  and 
soggy  boards  with  an  anxious  heart.  Were  we, 
after  all,  so  near  the  hiding-place?  And  what  were 
we  to  find? 

I  mounted  the  seat  again,  and  we  drove  forward. 
The  road  was  scarcely  distinguishable,  but  the  horses 
followed  it  without  hesitation  as  it  led  behind  a  tall 
\edge  and  among  scattered  oaks. 

My  heart  beat  fast.  What  if  the  enemy  were 
before  us  ? 

"Have  you  got  your  revolver  handy?"  I  whis 
pered  to  Dicky. 

"Two  of  'em,"  he  chuckled.  "There's  a  double 
dose  for  the  man  that  wants  it." 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  MYSTERY  371 

On  a  sudden  turn  the  house  loomed  up  before  us, 
and  a  wild  clamor  of  dogs  broke  the  stillness  of  the 
night. 

"I  hope  they  are  tied,"  I  said,  with  a  poor  attempt 
to  conceal  my  misgivings. 

"We'll  have  a  lively  time  in  a  quarter  of  a  min 
ute  if  they  aren't,7'  laughed  Dicky,  as  he  followed 
me. 

But  the  baying  and  barking  came  no  nearer,  and 
I  helped  Mrs.  Knapp  out  of  the  carriage.  She 
looked  at  the  house  closely. 

"This  is  the  place,"  she  said,  in  an  unmistakable 
tone  of  decision.  "We  must  be  quick.  I  wish  some 
thing  would  quiet  those  dogs;  they  will  bring  the 
whole  country  out." 

It  seemed  an  hour  before  we  could  raise  any  one, 
but  it  may  not  have  been  three  minutes  before  a 
voice  came  from  behind  the  door. 

"Who's  there?" 

"It  is  L.  M.  K.,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp;  then  she 
added  three  words  of  gibberish  that  I  took  to  be 
the  passwords  used  to  identify  the  friends  of  the 
boy. 

At  the  words  there  was  the  sound  of  bolts  shoot 
ing  back,  and  the  heavy  door  opened  enough  to 
admit  us.    As  we  passed  in,  it  was  closed  once  more 
and  the  bolts  shot  home. 

Before  us  stood  a  short,  heavy-set  man,  holding 
a  candle.  His  face,  which  was  stamped  with  much 
of  the  bulldog  look  in  it,  was  smooth-shaven  ex- 


372  BLINDFOLDED 

cept  for  a  bristling  brown  mustache.  He  looked 
inquiringly  at  us. 

"Is  he  here — the  boy?"  cried  Mrs.  Knapp,  her 
voice  choked  with  anxiety. 

"Yes,"  said  the  man.  "Do  we  move  again?" 
He  seemed  to  feel  no  surprise  at  the  situation,  and 
I  inferred  that  it  was  not  the  first  time  he  had 
changed  quarters  on  a  sudden  at  the  darkest  hour 
of  the  night. 

"At  once,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp,  in  her  tone  of  de 
cision. 

"It  will  take  ten  minutes  to  get  ready,"  said  the 
man.  "Come  this  way." 

I  was  left  standing  alone  by  the  door  in  the  dark 
ness,  with  a  burden  lifted  from  my  mind.  We  had 
come  in  time.  The  single  slip  of  paper  left  by  Henry 
Wilton  had  been  the  means,  through  a  strange  com 
bination  of  events,  to  point  the  way  to  the  un 
known  hiding-place  of  the  boy.  He  was  still  safe, 
and  the  enemy  were  on  a  false  trail.  I  should  not 
have  to  reproach  myself  with  the  sacrifice  of  the 
child. 

Yet  my  mind  was  far  from  easy.  The  enemy 
might  have  been  misled,  but  if  they  had  followed  the 
road  marked  out  in  the  diagram  I  had  brought 
from  their  den,  they  were  too  close  for  comfort. 
I  listened  for  any  sound  from  the  outside.  The 
dogs  had  quieted  down.  Twice  I  thought  I  heard 
hoof-beats,  and  there  was  a  chorus  of  barks  from  the 
rear  of  the  house.  But  it  was  only  the  horses  that 


"No  —  I   can  carry  him  —  I  want  to    carry  him" 

See  page  373 


THEHEARTOFTHE  MYSTERY     373 

had  brought  us  hither,  stamping  impatiently  as 
they  waited. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  wavering  light  of  the  candle 
reappeared.  Mrs,  Knapp  \vas  carrying  a  bundle 
that  I  took  to  be  the  boy,  and  the  man  brought  a 
valise  and  a  blanket. 

"It's  all  right,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp.  "No— I  can 
carry  him — I  want  to  carry  him." 

The  man  opened  the  door,  then  closed  and  locked 
it  as  I  helped  Mrs.  Knapp  into  the  carriage. 

"Have  you  got  him  safe?"  asked  Dicky  incred 
ulously.  "Well,  I'll  have  to  say  that  you  know 
more  than  I  thought  you  did."  And  the  relief  and 
satisfaction  in  his  tone  were  so  evident  that  I  glad 
ly  repented  of  my  suspicions  of  the  light-hearted 
Dicky. 

"Have  you  heard  anything?"  I  asked  him  anx 
iously. 

"I  thought  I  heard  a  yell  over  here  through  the 
woods.  We  had  better  get  out  of  here." 

"Don't  wait  a  second,"  said  the  man.  "The  south 
road  comes  over  this  other  way.  If  you've  heard 
anybody  there,  they  will  be  here  in  five  minutes. 
I'll  follow  you  on  a  horse." 

With  an  injunction  to  haste,  I  stepped  after  Mrs. 
Knapp  into  the  carriage,  the  door  was  shut,  Dicky 
mounted  the  seat,  and  we  rolled  down  the  road  on 
the  return  journey. 

"Oh,  how  thankful  I  am!"  cried  Mrs.  Knapp. 
"There  is  a  weight  of  anxiety  off  my  mind.  Can 


374  BLINDFOLDED 

you  imagine  what  I  have  been  fearing  in  the  last 
month  ?" 

"I  had  thought  a  little  about  that  myself,"  I  con 
fessed.  "But  we  are  not  yet  out  of  the  woods,  I 
am  afraid." 

"Hark!  what's  that?"  said  Mrs.  Knapp  apprehen 
sively. 

The  carriage  was  now  making  its  way  through  the 
bad  stretch  in  the  lane,  and  there  was  little  noise 
in  its  progress. 

"I  heard  nothing,"  I  said,  putting  down  the  win 
dow  to  listen.  "What  was  it?" 

"I  thought  it  was  a  shout." 

There  was  no  noise  but  the  steady  splash  of 
horses'  hoofs  in  the  mud,  and  the  sloppy,  shearing 
sound  of  the  wheels  as  they  cut  through  the  wet 
soil. 

As  we  bumped  and  groaned  again  through  the 
ruts,  however,  there  arose  in  the  distance  behind  us 
the  fierce  barking  of  dogs,  their  voices  raised  in  an 
ger  and  alarm. 

There  was  a  faint  halloo,  and  a  wilder  barking 
followed.  Then  my  ear  caught  the  splashing  of 
galloping  hoofs  behind,  and  in  a  moment  the  man 
of  the  house  rode  beside  us. 

"They've  come,"  he  said,  "or,  anyhow,  some 
body's  come.  I  let  the  dogs  loose,  and  they  will 
have  a  lively  time  for  a  while." 

At  his  words  there  was  another  chorus  of  barks 
and  shouts.  Then  a  shot  rang  out,  and  a  fusillade 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  MYSTERY  375 

followed  with  a  mournful  Avail  that  died  away  into 
silence. 

"Good  Lord!  they've  shot  the  dogs,"  cried  the 
man  hotly.  'I've  a  mind  to  go  back  and  pepper 
some  of  'em." 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp,  "we  may  need  you.  Let 
us  hurry !" 

A  few  yards  more  brought  us  to  the  main  road, 
and  once  on  the  firm  ground  the  horses  trotted 
briskly  forward,  while  the  horseman  dropped  be 
hind,  the  better  to  observe  and  give  the  alarm. 

"We  were  just  in  time,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp,  trem 
bling. 

"Let  us  be  thankful  for  so  much,"  said  I  cheer 
fully. 

"They  will  follow  us,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp,  with 
conviction  in  her  tone. 

"Not  before  they  have  broken  into  the  house. 
That  will  keep  them  for  some  time,  I  think." 

"Is  there  no  sign  of  pursuit?" 

I  leaned  out  of  the  window.  Only  the  deadened 
sound  of  the  hoofs  of  our  own  horses,  the  deadened 
roll  of  our  own  carriage  wheels,  were  audible  in  the 
stillness  of  the  night.  Then  I  thought  I  heard  yells 
and  faint  hoof-beats  in  the  distance,  but  again  there 
was  silence  except  for  the  muffled  noise  we  made  in 
pur  progress. 

"Can't  we  drive  faster?"  asked  Mrs.  Knapp, 
when  I  made  my  report. 

"I  wouldn't  spoil  these  horses  for  five  hundred 


376  BLINDFOLDED 

dollars/'  growled  the  driver  when  I  passed  him  the 
injunction  to  hasten. 

"It's  a  thousand  dollars  for  you  if  you  get  to  the 
wharf  ahead  of  the  others,"  cried  Mrs.  Knapp. 

"And  you'll  have  a  bullet  in  your  hide  if  you 
don't  keep  out  of  gunshot  of  them,"  I  added. 

The  double  inducement  to  haste  had  its  effect, 
and  we  could  feel  the  swifter  motion  of  the  vehicle 
under  us,  and  see  the  more  rapid  passage  of  the 
trees  and  fences  that  lined  the  way. 

The  wild  ride  appeared  to  last  for  ages.  The 
fast  trot  of  the  horses  was  a  funeral  pace  to  the 
flight  of  my  excited  and  anxious  imagination. 
What  if  we  should  be  overtaken?  The  hack  would 
offer  no  protection  from  bullets,  and  Mrs.  Knapp 
and  the  boy  could  scarcely  escape  injury  if  it  came  to 
a  close  encounter.  But  whenever  I  looked  back 
there  was  only  the  single  horseman  galloping  be 
hind  us,  and  the  only  sound  to  be  heard  was  that  of 
our  own  progress. 

At  last  the  houses  began  to  pass  more  frequently. 
Now  the  road  was  broken  by  cross  streets.  Gas- 
lamps  appeared,  flickering  faint  and  yellow  in  the 
morning  air,  as  though  the  long  night  vigil  had 
robbed  them  of  their  vitality.  We  were  once  more 
within  city  limits,  and  I  felt  a  loosening  of  the  tense 
nerves  of  anxiety.  The  panting  horses  never  slack 
ened  pace.  We  swept  over  a  long  bridge,  and 
plunged  down  a  shaded  street,  and  the  figure  of  the 
Jiorseman  was  the  only  sign  of  life  behind  us, 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  MYSTERY  377 

Of  a  sudden  there  sounded  a  long  roll,  as  of  a 
great  drum  beating  the  reveille  for  an  army  of 
giants.  The  horseman  quickened  his  pace  and  gal 
loped  furiously  beside  us. 

"They're  crossing  the  bridge,"  he  shouted. 

"Whip  up!"  I  cried  to  the  driver.  'They  are 
only  four  blocks  behind  us." 

"Are  they  in  sight  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Knapp. 

"I  can  not  see  them,"  I  replied,  "and  it  may  not 
be  the  ones  we  fear.  It  is  near  daybreak,  and  we 
are  not  the  only  ones  astir." 

I  peered  out,  but  a  rising  mist  from  the  lagoon 
and  the  bay  hindered  the  vision,  and  the  sound  of 
the  rolling  drum  had  ceased. 

The  hack  swung  around  a  few  corners,  and  then 
halted 

"Here  we  are!"  cried  Dicky  Nahl  at  the  door. 
"You  get  aboard  the  tug  and  push  off.  Jake  and  T 
will  run  up  to  the  foot  of  the  wharf.  If  they  come, 
we  can  keep  'em  off  long  enough  for  you  to  get 
aboard."  Dicky  had  a  revolver  in  each  hand,  and 
the  determined  ring  of  his  voice,  so  different  from 
his  usual  light  bantering  tone,  gave  me  assurance 
of  his  sincerity.  With  the  horseman  he  hastened  to 
the  entrance  of  the  wharf,  where  the  two  loomed 
through  the  mist  like  shadow-men. 

The  tug  was  where  it  lay  when  we  left,  and  at  tny 
hail  the  captain  and  his  crew  of  three  were  astir. 
It  was  a  moment's  work  to  get  Mrs.  Knapp  and  her 
charge  aboard. 


378  BLINDFOLDED 

"Come  on!"  I  cried  to  Dicky  and  his  companion. 
And  as  the  lines  were  cast  off  they  made  a  running 
jump  on  to  the  deck  of  the  tug  boat,  and  the  vessel 
backed  out  into  the  stream. 

As  the  wharf  faded  away  into  the  mist  that  hung 
over  the  waters  I  thought  I  saw  shapes  of  men  and 
horses  rushing  frantically  to  the  edge,  and  a  mas 
sive  figure  waving  its  arms  like  a  madman,  and 
shouting  impotent  curses  into  the  air.  But  with 
the  distance,  the  uncertain  light,  and  the  curtain 
of  mist  that  was  thickening  between  us,  my  eyes 
might  have  deceived  me,  and  I  omitted  to  mention 
my  suspicions  to  Mrs.  Knapp. 

When  the  mist  and  darkness  had  blotted  out 
shore,  wharves  and  shipping,  the  tug  moved  at  half- 
speed  down  the  channel.  I  persuaded  the  captain 
that  there  was  no  need  to  sound  the  whistle,  but  he 
declined  gruffly  to  increase  his  speed. 

"I  might  as  well  be  shot  as  run  my  boat  ashore," 
he  growled,  with  a  few  emphatic  seamanlike  ad 
jectives  that  appeared  to  belong  to  nothing  in  par 
ticular.  "And  any  one  that  doesn't  like  my  way  of 
running  a  boat  can  get  out  and  walk." 

I  did  not  know  of  any  particular  reason  for  ar 
guing  the  question,  so  I  joined  Mrs.  Knapp. 

"Thank  God,  we  are  safe!"  she  said,  with  a  sigh 
of  relief. 

"We  shall  be  in  the  city  in  half  an  hour,  if  that 
is  safety,"  I  said. 

"It  will  be  safety  for  a  few  days.     Then  we  can 


THE  HEART  O  F  TH  E  MYSTERY     379 

devise  a  new  plan.  I  have  a  strong  arm  to  lean  on 
again." 

"I  think  if  you  would  tell  me  who  the  boy  is,  and 
why  the  danger  threatens  him,  I  might  help  you 
more  wisely." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp 
thoughtfully.  "You  shall  know  before  it  is  neces 
sary  to  make  our  next  plans." 

And  then  the  boy  called  for  her  attention  and  I 
returned  to  the  deck. 

The  light  of  the  morning  was  growing.  Vessels 
were  moving.  The  whistles  of  the  ferry-boats,  as 
they  gave  warning  of  their  way  through  the  mist, 
rose  shrill  on  the  air.  The  waters  were  still,  a  faint 
ripple  showing  in  strange  contrast  to  the  scene  of 
last  night. 

"There's  a  steamer  behind  us,"  said  Dicky  Nahl, 
with  a  worried  look  as  I  joined  him.  "I've  been  lis 
tening  to  it  for  five  minutes." 

"It's  a  tug,"  said  the  captain.  "She  was  lying  on 
the  other  side  of  the  wharf  last  night." 

"Good  heavens!"  I  cried.  "Put  on  full  steam, 
then,  or  we  shall  be  run  down  in  the  bay.  It's  the 
gang  we  are  trying  to  get  away  from." 

The  captain  looked  at  me  suspiciously  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  was  inclined  to  resent  my  interference. 
Then  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  though  it  was 
none  of  his  business  whether  we  were  lunatics  or 
not  so  long  as  we  paid  for  the  privilege,  and  rang 
the  engine  bell  for  full  speed  ahead. 


380  BLINDFOLDED 

We  had  just  come  out  of  the  Oakland  Creek 
channel  and  the  mist  suddenly  thinned  before  us. 
It  left  the  bay  and  the  city  fair  and  wholesome  in 
the  gray  light,  as  though  the  storm  had  washed  the 
grime  and  foulness  from  air  and  earth  and  renewed 
the  freshness  of  life.  The  clear  outline  of  the  hills 
was  scarcely  broken  by  smoke.  The  ever-changing 
beauties  of  the  most  beautiful  of  bays  took  on  the 
faint  suggestion  of  a  livelier  tint,  the  herald  of  the 
coming  sun.  We  had  come  but  a  few  hundred 
yards  into  the  clear  air  when  out  of  the  mist  bank 
behind  us  shot  another  tug,  the  smoke  streaming 
from  the  funnel,  the  steam  puffing  noisily  from  the 
escapes  and  the  engine  straining  to  increase  the 
speed. 

At  the  exclamation  that  broke  from  us,  our  cap 
tain  for  the  first  time  showed  interest  in  the  speed 
of  his  boat,  and  whistled  angrily  down  to  his  engi 
neer. 

"We  can  beat  her"  he  said,  with  a  contemptuous 
accent  on  the  "her." 

"That's  your  business,"  I  returned,  and  walked 
aft  to  where  Mrs.  Knapp  was  standing,  half-way 
up  the  steps  from  the  cabin. 

"There  is  Darby  Meeker,"  I  said,  getting  sight 
of  him  on  the  pursuing  tug. 

"Can  they  catch  us?"  inquired  Mrs.  Knapp,  the 
lines  tightening  about  her  mouth. 

"I  think  not — the  captain  says  not.  I  should  say 
that  we  were  holding  our  own  now," 


T  H  E  H  E  A  R  T  O  F  T  H  E  M  Y  S  T  E  R  Y     381 

At  this  moment  a  tall,  massive  figure  stepped 
from  the  pilot-house  of  the  pursuing  tug  and  shook 
its  fists  at  us.  At  the  sight  of  the  man  my  heart 
stood  still.  The  huge  bulk,  the  wolf-face,  just  dis 
tinguishable,  distorted,  dark  with  rage  and  passion, 
stopped  the  blood,  and  I  felt  a  faintness  as  of  drop 
ping  from  a  height.  With  a  gasp,  life  and  voice 
came  back  to  me. 

"Doddridge  Knapp!"  I  cried. 

Mrs.  Knapp  looked  at  me  in  alarm,  and  grasped 
the  rail. 

"No!  no!"  she  exclaimed.  "A  thousand  times 
no!  That  is  Elijah  Lane!" 

I  gazed  at  her  in  wonder.  Not  Doddridge 
Knapp!  Had  my  eyes  played  me  false? 

"Do  you  not  understand?"  she  said  in  a  low,  in 
tense  tone.  "He  is  Elijah  Lane,  the  father  of  the 
boy.  An  evil,  wicked  man — mad — truly  mad.  He 
would  kill  the  boy.  He  killed  the  mother  of  the 
boy.  I  know,  but  it  is  not  a  case  for  proof — not  a 
case  that  the  law  can  touch.  And  he  hates  the  boy 
—and  me !" 

I  began  to  grasp  the  truth,  and  recovered  speech./ 

"But  why  does  he  want  to  kill  him?  And  would 
not  the  law  punish  the  crime  ?" 

"You  do  not  understand.  The  boy  inherits  a 
great  fortune  from  his  mother.  Mr.  Knapp  and  I 
are  left  trustees  by  the  mother's  will.  If  he  had 
control  of  the  boy,  the  boy  would  die ;  but  it  would 
be  from  cruelty,  disease,  neglect.  It  would  not  be 


382  BLINDFOLDED 

murder  in  the  eye  of  the  law.  But  I  know  what 
would  happen.  Oh,  see  the  wretch !  How  he  hates 
me!" 

I  was  stunned  with  the  words  I  had  heard.  They 
made  much  plain  that  had  puzzled  me,  yet  they  left 
much  more  in  darkness;  and  I  looked  blankly  at 
the  figure  on  the  other  tug.  It  was  truly  a  strange 
sight.  The  man  was  beside  himself  with  rage, 
shouting,  gesticulating  and  leaping  about  the  deck 
in  transports  of  passion.  He  showed  every  mark  of 
a  maniac. 

Suddenly  he  drew  a  revolver  and  sent  shot  after 
shot  in  our  direction.  We  were  far  beyond  the 
reach  of  a  pistol  bullet,  but  Mrs.  Knapp  screamed 
and  dodged. 

"How  he  hates  me!"  she  cried  again. 

When  the  last  shot  was  gone  from  his  revolver 
the  man  flung  the  weapon  in  frenzy,  as  though  he 
could  hope  to  strike  us  thus. 

Then  a  strange  thing  happened.  Whether  due  to 
the  effort  he  had  made  in  the  throw,  or  to  a  lurch 
of  the  tug  in  the  waves  we  left  behind  us,  or  to  a 
stumble  over  some  obstruction,  I  could  not  say. 
But  we  saw  the  man  suddenly  pitch  forward  over 
the  low  bulwarks  of  the  tug  into  the  waters  of  the 
bay. 

Mrs.  Knapp  gave  a  scream  and  covered  her 
eyes. 

"Stop  the  boat!"  I  shouted.     "Back  her!" 

The  other  tug  had  checked  its  headway  at  the 


T  H  E  H  E  A  R  T  O  F  T  H  E  M  Y  S  T  E  R  Y     383 

same  time,  and  there  was  a  line  of  six  or  seven  men 
along  its  side. 

"There  he  is !"  cried  one. 

The  captain  laid  our  tug  across  the  tidal  stream 
that  swept  us  strongly  toward  Goat  Island.  Then 
he  steamed  slowly  toward  the  other  tug. 

"He's  gone/'  said  Dicky. 

The  other  tug  seemed  anxious  to  keep  away  from 
us,  as  in  distrust  of  our  good  intentions.  I  scanned 
the  waters  carefully,  but  the  drowning  man  had 
gone  down. 

Then,  rising  not  twenty  feet  away,  floating  for 
a  moment  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  I  saw  plainly 
for  the  first  time,  the  very  caricature  of  the  face  of 
Doddridge  Knapp.  The  strong  wolf-features 
which  in  the  King  of  the  Street  were  eloquent  of 
power,  intellect  and  sagacity,  were  here  marked  with 
the  record  of  passion,  hatred  and  evil  life.  I  mar 
veled  now  that  I  had  ever  traced  a  likeness  between 
them. 

"Give  me  that  hook!"  I  cried,  leaning  over  the 
side  of  the  tug.  "Go  ahead  a  little." 

One  of  the  men  threw  a  rope.  It  passed  too  far, 
and  drifted  swiftly  behind. 

I  made  a  wild  reach  with  the  hook,  but  it  was  too 
short.  Just  as  I  thought  I  should  succeed,  the  face 
gave  a  convulsive  twitch,  as  if  in  a  parting  outburst 
of  hate  and  wrath,  and  the  body  sank  out  of  sight. 
We  waited  for  a  few  minutes,  but  there  was  no 
further  sign.  The  other  tug  that  had  hovered  near 


384  BLINDFOLDED 

us  turned  about  and  made  for  the  Oakland  shore.  1 
signed  to  the  captain  to  take  his  course  for  the  city. 

The  men  talked  in  subdued  tones,  and  I  stood 
half-bewildered,  with  a  bursting  sense  of  relief,  by 
Mrs.  Knapp.  At  last  she  took  her  hands  from  be 
fore  her  eyes,  and  the  first  rays  of  the  sun  that 
cleared  the  tops  of  the  Alameda  Hills  touched  her 
calm,  solemn,  hopeful  face. 

"A  new  day  has  dawned,"  she  said.  "Let  us  give 
thanks  to  God." 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE   END  OF  THE  JOURNEY 

For  a  few  minutes  we  were  silent.  Water  and 
land  and  sky  started  into  new  glories  at  the  touch 
of  the  rising  sun.  The  many-hilled  city  took  on  the 
hues  of  a  fairy  picture,  and  the  windows  gleamed 
with  the  magic  fires  that  were  flashed  back  in  greet 
ing  to  the  god  of  day.  The  few  cotton-ball  clouds 
that  lingered  about  the  mountain-tops,  sole  strag 
glers  of  the  army  that  had  trooped  up  from  the 
south  at  the  blast  of  the  rain- wind,  turned  from 
pink  to  white.  The  green-gray  waters  of  the  bay 
rippled  lightly  in  the  tide  as  the  tug  sent  the  minia 
ture  surges  trailing  in  diverging  lines  from  its  bow. 
The  curtain  of  mist  that  hid  the  Alameda  shore  rose 
and  lightened  at  the  touch  of  the  warm  rays.  The 
white  sails  of  the  high-masted  ships  scattered 
through  the  bay,  drooped  in  graceful  festoons  as 
they  turned  to  the  sun  to  rid  them  of  the  rain-water 
that  clung  to  their  folds.  The  ferry-boats,  moving 
with  mock  majesty,  furnished  the  signs  of  life  to 
the  silent  panorama. 

It  seemed  scarcely  possible  that  this  was  the  rag 
ing,  tossing  water  we  had  crossed  last  night.  And  the 

385 


386  BLINDFOLDED 

fiery  scene  of  passion  and  death  we  had  just  wit 
nessed  was  so  foreign  to  its  calm  beauties,  that  I 
could  believe  it  had  happened  elsewhere  in  some 
dream  of  long  ago. 

I  was  roused  by  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Knapp,  who  sat 
at  the  head  of  the  cabin  stairs,  looking  absently  over 
the  water. 

"I  have  not  dealt  frankly  with  you,"  she  said. 
"Perhaps  it  is  better  that  you  should  know,  as  you 
know  so  much  already.  I. feel  that  I  may  rely  on 
your  discretion." 

"I  think  I  can  keep  a  secret,"  I  replied,  concealing 
my  curiosity. 

"I  should  not  tell  you  if  I  did  not  have  full  con 
fidence."  Then  she  was  silent  for  a  minute.  "That 
man,"  she  continued  at  last,  with  a  shudder  in  her 
voice,  "that  man  was  Mr.  Knapp's  brother." 

I  suppressed  an  exclamation,  and  she  continued : 

"They  have  little  in  common,  even  in  looks.  I 
wonder  you  thought  for  a  moment  that  he  was  Mr. 
Knapp.  Few  people  who  know  them  both  have 
traced  a  resemblance." 

"Perhaps  those  who  do  not  know  them  would  be 
more  likely  to  find  the  common  points,"  I  suggested. 
"Members  of  a  family  see  only  the  difference  that 
marks  one  of  them  from  another.  The  stranger  at 
first  sees  the  family  type  in  all  and  notes  the  differ 
ences  later." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp.  "It's  like  picking  out 
the  Chinamen.  At  first  they  are  all  alike.  We  see 


THE   END    OF    THE   JOURNEY    387 

only  the  race  type.     Afterward,  we  see  the  many 
and  marked  differences." 

"I  think,"  said  I,  leading  back  to  the  main  sub 
ject,  "that  the  remarkable  circumstances  under 
which  I  had  seen  Mr.  Lane  had  a  good  deal  to  do 
with  the  illusion.  This  morning,  for  the  first  time, 
I  saw  his  face  under  full  light  and  close  at  hand." 

Mrs.  Knapp  nodded.     Then  she  continued : 

"Mr.  Knapp  and  his  brother  parted  thirty  years 
ago  in  Ohio.  The  brother — the  man  who  has  just 
gone — was  younger  than  Mr.  Knapp,  though  he 
looked  older.  He  was  wild  in  his  youth.  When 
he  left  home  it  was  in  the  night,  and  for  some  of 
fense  that  would  have  brought  him  within  reach  of 
the  law.  Mr.  Knapp  never  told  me  what  it  was  and 
I  never  asked.  For  fifteen  years  nothing  was  heard 
of  him.  Mr.  Knapp  and  I  married,  we  had  come  to 
San  Francisco,  and  he  was  already  a  rising  man 
in  the  city.  One  day  this  man  came.  He  had 
drifted  to  the  coast  in  some  lawless  enterprise,  and 
by  chance  found  his  brother." 

Mrs.  Knapp  paused. 

"'And  at  once  began  to  live  off  of  him,  I  suppose," 
I  threw  in  as  an  encouragement  to  proceed. 

"Not  exactly,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp.  "He  confessed 
some  of  his  rascality  to  Mr.  Knapp,  but  pleaded 
that  he  was  anxious  to  reform.  Mr.  Knapp  agreed 
to  help  him,  but  made  the  condition  that  he  should 
take  another  name,  and  should  never  allow  the  re 
lationship  to  be  known.  Mr.  Lane — I  can  not  call 


388  BLINDFOLDED 

him  by  his  true  name — was  ready  to  agree  to  the 
conditions.  I  think  he  was  very  glad  indeed  to  con 
ceal  himself  under  an  assumed  name,  and  hide  from 
the  memory  of  his  earlier  years." 

"Had  his  crimes  then  been  so  great?"  I  asked,  as 
Mrs.  Knapp  again  ceased  to  speak. 

"He  had  been  a  wicked,  wicked  man/'  said  Mrs. 
Knapp.  "The  full  tale  of  his  villainy  I  never  knew, 
but  he  had  been  a  negro  stealer, — one  of  those  who 
captured  free  negroes  or  the  darkies  from  Ken 
tucky  and  Missouri  in  the  days  before  the  war,  and 
sold  them  down  the  river.  He  had  been  the  leader 
of  a  wild  band  in  Arkansas  and  Texas,  who  made 
their  living  by  robbing  travelers  and  stealing  horses. 
He  had  been  near  death  a  hundred  times,  yet  he 
had  escaped  unhurt.  Mr.  Knapp  helped  him.  He 
prospered  in  business,  bought  a  ranch,  and  turned 
farmer.  To  all  appearances,  he  had  reformed  com 
pletely.  No  one  would  suspect  in  the  Sonoma 
rancher  the  daring  leader  of  the  outlaws  in  Texas." 

"I  could  believe  anything  of  him,"  I  said  grimly. 

"You  have  had  a  taste  of  his  quality,"  said  Mrs. 
Knapp.  "Well,  it  was  seven  years  ago  that  he  mar 
ried.  His  wife  was  much  younger  than  he, — a  love 
ly  girl,  and  her  parents  were  rich.  How  he  got  her 
I  do  not  see.  It  was  his  gift  of  the  tongue,  I  sup 
pose,  for  he  could  talk  well.  She  was  not  happy 
with  him,  but  was  better  contented  when,  two  years 
later,  her  boy  came.  Mr.  Lane  was  often  from 
home,  but  I  do  not  think  she  regretted  the  neglect 


THE   END    OF   THE   JOURNEY    389 

with  which  he  treated  her.  He  was  not  a  man  who 
made  his  home  pleasant  while  he  was  about.  After  a 
while  he  used  to  disappear  for  weeks,  spending  the 
time  in  low  haunts  in  the  city,  or  none  knew  where. 
Last  year  Mrs.  Lane's  father  died,  and  she  came  in 
under  the  will  for  more  than  a  million  dollars' 
worth  of  property.  Then  Mr.  Lane  changed  his 
habits.  He  became  most  attentive  to  his  wife.  He 
looked  to  her  wants,  and  appeared  to  the  world  as 
a  model  husband.  But  more  was  going  on  than  we 
knew.  From  the  little  she  told  me,  from  the  hints 
she  dropped,  she  must  have  looked  upon  him  with 
dread.  She  failed  rapidly  in  health,  and  six  months 
ago  she  died." 

"Murdered?0  I  asked. 

"I  believe  it  with  all  my  soul,"  said  Mrs.  Knapp. 
"But  there  was  no  evidence — not  a  particle.  I  tried 
to  find  it,  but  it  was  beyond  the  power  of  the  doctors 
to  discover." 

"And  his  motive?" 

"He  thought  he  was  heir  to  her  fortune.  When 
he  found  that  she  had  left  it  with  Mr.  Knapp  and 
me,  in  trust  for  the  boy,  his  rage  was  frightful  to 
see.  His  servants  told  me  of  his  dreadful  ravings. 
He  dared  not  say  a  word  to  Mr.  Knapp,  but  he 
came  and  spoke  to  me  about  it.  I  was  afraid  for 
my  life  that  time.  He  said  that  the  money  was  his, 
and  he  said  it  with  such  meaning  that  I  felt  assured 
he  would  stop  at  nothing  to  get  it.  But  when  he 
spoke,  I  cut  him  so  short  that  he  visited  the  house 


390  BLINDFOLDED 

but  once  again.  Before  he  had  time  to  put  any  of 
his  wicked  thoughts  into  action  I  took  the  boy  to 
my  home,  thinking  that  there  I  could  keep  him  in 
safety.  Mr.  Knapp  pooh-poohed  my  fears,  and 
when  Mr.  Lane  made  a  demand  for  the  child  was 
in  favor  of  giving  him  up.  'The  father  is  the  one 
'to  care  for  the  boy/  he  said,  and  washed  his  hands 
of  the  whole  matter." 

"Then  Mr.  Knapp  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
affair,  one  way  or  the  other?" 

"Oh,  no — nothing  at  all.  I  believe,  though,  that 
Henry  did  use  his  name  with  the  police,  to  deter 
them  from  interfering  with  our  plans." 

I  remembered  Detective  Coogan's  words,  and 
knew  that  she  was  correct  in  this  supposition. 

"Mr.  Lane,"  she  continued,  "threatened  legal 
proceedings.  But,  knowing  his  own  past,  and 
knowing  that  I  knew  something  of  it,  too,  he  dared 
not  begin  them.  Mr.  Knapp's  feelings  in  the  mat 
ter  had  made  me  unwilling  to  keep  the  boy  in  my 
house,  but  at  first  I  thought  it  the  best  way  of  pro 
tecting  him,  and  had  him  with  me.  Then  one  night 
the  house  was  broken  into,  and  two  men  were  dis- 
Icovered  in  the  room  where  the  boy  usually  slept.  I 
had  taken  him  to  my  own  bed  that  night,  for  he  was 
ailing,  and  so  he  escaped.  The  alarm  was  raised 
before  they  found  him,  and  the  men  fled.  Mr. 
Knapp  was  confident  that  they  were  ordinary  house 
breakers,  but  I  knew  better.  I  dared  keep  the  boy 
there  no  longer,  and  called  Henry  Wilton  to  assist 


THE    END    OF    THE   JOURNEY    391 

me  in  making  him  safe.  He  found  a  suitable  house 
for  the  boy,  and  hired  men  to  guard  it.  But  after 
one  experience  in  which  the  place  was  attacked  and 
almost  carried  by  storm,  Henry  thought  it  better 
to  hide  the  boy  and  watch  the  enemy.  The  rest 
you  know." 

Heaving  a  sigh  as  of  relief,  she  went  on : 

"Mr.  Lane  was  insane,  I  am  certain.  I  tried  to 
have  Mr.  Knapp  take  steps  to  lock  him  up.  But 
Mr.  Knapp  could  not  believe  that  his  brother  was 
so  wicked  as  to  wish  to  take  the  life  of  his  own 
child,  and  shut  his  ears  to  the  talk  of  his  madness. 
I  think  he  was  fearful  of  a  scandal  in  which  the  re 
lationship  should  become  known,  and  the  stories  of 
his  brother's  early  days  should  come  to  the  public. 
But  there  was  a  time,  a  few  weeks  ago,  when  I  was 
near  spurring  Mr.  Knapp  to  action.  It  was  at  the 
time  of  his  trip  to  Virginia  City.  Mr.  Lane  came 
to  the  house  while  I  was  away  and  scared  the  ser 
vants  into  fits  with  his  threats  and  curses.  Luella 
had  the  courage  and  tact  to  face  him  and  get  him 
out  of  the  house,  and  I  telegraphed  for  Mr.  Knapp." 

"I  remember  the  occasion,  though  I  didn't  know) 
what  was  going  on." 

"Well,  Mr.  Knapp  was  very  angry,  and  had  a 
long  talk  with  Lane.  He  told  me  that  the  creature 
cried  and  pleaded  for  forgiveness,  and  promised 
amendment  for  the  future.  And  Mr.  Knapp  be 
lieved  him.  Yet  that  very  night  you  were  assailed 
with  Luella  in  Chinatown." 


392  BLINDFOLDED 

The  truth  flashed  on  me.  The  groans  and  cries 
behind  the  locked  door  in  Doddridge  Knapp's 
office,  the  voices  which  were  like  to  one  man  plead 
ing  and  arguing  with  himself,  were  all  explained. 

"I  think  the  assault  was  something  of  an  acci 
dent,"  she  continued;  "or,  rather,  it  was  more  the 
doing  of  Terrill  than  of  Lane." 

"What  was  the  cause  of  Ten-ill's  enmity?"  I 
asked.  "He  seemed  to  take  a  hearty  personal  in 
terest  in  the  case  for  a  hired  man." 

"For  one  thing,  a  family  interest.  I  think  he  is 
a  son  of  Lane's  early  years.  For  another,  he  had 
a  violent  personal  quarrel  with  Henry  over  some 
matter,  and  you  have  had  the  benefit  of  the  enmity. 
But  I  don't  think  you'll  hear  of  him  again- — or 
Meeker  either.  They  will  be  in  too  much  of  a  hurry 
to  leave  the  state." 

I  thought  of  Terrill  lying  bruised  and  sore  at 
Livermore,  and  felt  no  fear  of  him. 

"You  took  great  chances  in  sending  me  to  Liver- 
more,"  I  said.  "It  might  have  gone  hard  with  Mr. 
Knapp's  plans  if  I  had  not  got  back." 

"I  thought  of  that.  But  if  the  boy  had  been 
where  I  supposed  all  would  have  been  well.  I 
should  have  telegraphed  you  before  nightfall  to  re 
turn.  But  in  the  distraction  of  my  search  I  did  not 
give  up  till  midnight.  I  left  a  telegram  at  the  office 
to  be  sent  you  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  but 
by  that  time  you  were  here.  It  was  a  bold  escape, 
and  I  feel  that  we  owe  you  much  for  it." 


THE   END   OF   THE   JOURNEY    393 

,  At  her  last  words  we  were  at  the  wharf,  and  land 
ed  free  frpm  fear. 

An  hour  later  I  reached  my  lodgings,  sore  with 
fatigue,  and  half-dead  for  want  of  sleep.  The  ex 
citement  that  had  spurred  my  strength  for  the  last 
enterprise  no  longer  supported  me.  I  slept  twenty- 
four  hours  in  peace,  and  no  dream  of  Doddridge 
Knapp's  brother  or  of  the  snake-eyes  of  Tom  Ter- 
rill  disturbed  my  repose. 


CHAPTER  XXXi 

THE   REWARD 

"I've  heard  about  you,"  said  Luella,  when  on 
the  next  evening  I  made  my  bow  to  her.  "But  I 
want  to  hear  all  about  it  from  yourself.  Tell  me, 
please." 

"Where  shall  I  begin  ?'?  I  asked,  looking  into  the 
most  charming  of  faces,  which  shone  before  me. 

"How    stupid   to   ask !     At   the   beginning,  .  of 


course." 


"I  was  born  of  poor  but  honest  parents" — I  be 
gan. 

Luella  interrupted  me  with  a  laugh. 

"How  absurd  you  are!  Anyhow,  you  can  tell 
me  about  that  later.  Just  begin  with  the  San  Fran 
cisco  beginning.  Tell  me  why  you  came  and  all 
about  it." 

"Very  good,"  I  said;  "though  really  this  part  is 
much  longer  than  the  other." 

Then  I  told  her  the  story  of  my  coming,  of  the 
murder  of  Henry  Wilton,  of  the  struggles  with 
death  and  difficulty  that  had  given  the  spice  of  vari 
ety  to  my  life  since  I  had  come  across  the  conti 
nent. 

394 


THE   REWARD  395 

It  was  an  inspiration  to  have  such  a  listener.  Un 
der  the  encouragement  of  her  sympathy  I  found  an 
unwonted  flow  of  words  and  ideas.     Laughter  and 
tears  shone  in  her  eyes  as  the  ludicrous  and  sor 
rowful  parts  of  my  experience  touched  her  by  turns. 
And  at  the  end  I  found — I  really  don't  know  how; 
it  happened — I  found  that  I  was  clasping  her  hand  - 
and  looking  up  into  her  eyes  in  a  trance  of  intoxica 
tion  from  the  subtle  magnetism  of  her  lovely  pres 
ence. 

For  a  minute  we  were  silent. 

"Oh,"  she  cried  softly,  withdrawing  her  hand, 
and  looking  dreamily  away,  "I  knew  it  was  right — 
that  it  must  be  right.  You  have  justified  my  faith, 
and  more!" 

"I  am  repaid  for  all  by  those  words,"  I  said.  I 
am  afraid  I  stared  very  hard  at  her,  but  it  was  pleas 
ant,  indeed,  to  look  into  Luella's  eyes  without  any 
reservations  or  conscientious  qualms  in  thinking  of 
my  duty  to  hang  her  father. 

"You  deserve  a  much  greater  reward  than  that," 
said  Luella. 

"I  want  a  much  greater  reward  than  that,"  said  I 
boldly. 

I  did  not  think  the  courage  was  in  me.  But  un 
der  the  magnetic  influence  of  the  woman  before  me 
I  forgot  what  a  poor  devil  I  was.  Luella  looked  at 
me,  and  I  saw  in  her  eyes  that  she  understood  what 
I  would  say. 

I  do  not  know  what  I  did  say.     I  have  no  doubt 


396  BLINDFOLDED 

it  was  very  badly  put,  but  she  listened  seriously. 
Then  she  said : 

"That's  very  nice  of  you  to  want  me,  but  I  am 
going  to  marry  the  president  of  the  Omega  Com 
pany." 

I  turned  sick  with  despair  at  these  words  so  gen 
tly  said,  and  a  pang  of  fierce  jealousy,  tinged  with 
wonder,  shot  through  me.  "Surely  she  can't  be  in 
love  with  that  red- faced  brute  we  fought  with  in 
the  Omega  office,"  I  thought.  That  was  impossible. 
Besides,  we  had  turned  him  out.  Doddridge  Knapp 
would  be  president  as  soon  as  the  new  board  of  di 
rectors  elected  its  officers.  She  couldn't,  of  course, 
think  of  marrying  her  own  father.  I  could  not  un 
derstand  what  she  meant,  but  I  knew  I  was  furious 
ly  uncomfortable  and  wished  I  was  rich  enough  to 
buy  up  the  company.  Luella  saw  my  distress  as  I 
tried  to  rise  and  fly  from  the  place. 

"Don't  go,"  she  said  gently.  "What  are  you  go 
ing  to  do  with  your  men?" 

"The  free  companions  are  to  be  disbanded,"  I 
said,  recovering  myself  with  a  gulp. 

"Are  any  of  them  killed?"  she  asked  in  solicitous 
tones. 

"No.  Porter  is  pretty  badly  hurt.  We  got  him 
down  from  Livermore  to-day.  He  was  in  the  jail 
there,  with  Abrams  and  Brown.  We  gave  bail  for 
them,  au-5  all  the  men  are  back  at  the  Montgomery 
Street  place.  Barkhouse  is  getting  on  all  right,  and 
there  are  a  few  bruises  and  cuts  scattered  around  in 


THE   REWARD 


397 


my  flock.  But  they'll  all  be  in  trim  for  another 
fight  in  two  or  three  weeks." 

"I  suppose  you'll  be  sorry  to  part  with  them." 

"They  are  a  faithful  set,  but  I've  had  enough  ex 
citement  for  a  while." 

"And  Mrs.  Borton?" 

"Is  to  be  buried  to-morrow." 

"And  you,  Mr.  Dudley?" 

This  question  struck  me  a  little  blank.  I  had 
really  not  thought  of  what  I  was  going  to  do. 

"It's  another  case  of  an  occupation  gone,"  I  said 
rather  ruefully.  "With  the  break-up  of  the  plots 
and  the  close  of  the  Omega  deal,  I  am  at  the  end 
of  my  employments." 

\Vith  this  view  of  the  question  before  me,  I  fell 
into  a  panic  of  regrets,  and  began  to  blush  furiously 
at  my  folly  in  imagining  for  an  instant  that  Luella 
could  think  of  me  for  a  husband. 

"No,"  said  Luella  thoughtfully.  "You  are  just 
at  the  beginning." 

The  tone,  even  more  than  the  words,  braced  my 
nerves,  and  once  more  there  glowed  within  me  a 
generous  courage  of  the  future. 

"You  are  right.  I  thank  you,"  I  said  feelingly. 
"I  have  faith  in  the  opportunities." 

"And  I  have  faith — "  said  Luella.  Then  she 
stopped. 

"In  the  man,  I  hope,"  I  ventured. 

Luella  did  not  answer,  but  she  gave  me  a  look 
that  meant  more  than  words.  I  was  a  trifle  be- 


398  BLINDFOLDED 

wildered,  wondering  where  I  stood  in  the  eyes  of 
this  capricious  young  woman,  but  my  speculations 
were  cut  short  by  the  coming  of  Mrs.  Knapp. 

There  was  no  reservation  in  her  greeting.  What 
ever  lingering  doubts  of  me  her  mind  had  held,  they 
had  all  melted  away  in  the  fire  of  that  last  journey 
that  had  ended  the  struggle  for  the  life  of  the  boy. 
As  we  talked  over  the  events  of  the  month,  I  found 
nothing  left  of  the  silent  opposition  with  which  she 
had  watched  my  growing  friendship  with  the 
daughter  of  the  house.  At  last  she  cried : 

"Oh,  I  had  almost  forgotten.  Mr.  Knapp  wishes 
to  see  you  in  his  room  before  you  go." 

"I  am  at  his  service,"  I  said,  and  went  at  once  to 
the  den  of  the  Wolf. 

"Ah,  Wilton,  I  find  you're  not  Wilton,"  he 
growled  amiably.  The  loss  pf  his  brother  had  not 
affected  his  spirits.- 

"Quite  true/'  I  said. 

"You  needn't  explain,"  he  said.  "The  women 
folks  say  it's  all  right,  though  I  don't  quite  under 
stand  it  myself." 

"I  can  tell  you  the  story,"  I  said. 

"I  don't  want  to  hear  it,"  he  growled.  "I've  tried 
you,  and  that's  enough  for  me." 

I  murmured  my  appreciation  and  thanks  for  his 
good  opinion. 

The  Wolf  waved  his  hand  as  a  disposal  of  all 
acknowledgments,  and  growled  again : 

"Have  you  any  engagements  that  would  keep 


THE    REWARD  399 

you  from  taking-  the  place  of  president  of  the  Omega 
Company?" 

I  fell  back  on  the  chair,  speechless. 

'There'll  be  a  good  salary,"  he  continued.  "Well, 
of  course,  you  needn't  be  in  a  hurry  to  accept.  Take 
a  day  to  think  over  it  if  you  like." 

The  Wolf  actually  smiled. 

"Oh,  I  don't  need  any  time,"  I  gasped.  "I'll  take 
it  now/' 

"Well,  you'll  have  to  wait  till  the  directors  meet," 
he  said. 

I  gave  him  my  hearty  thanks  for  the  unlooked-for 
favor. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,"  he  said,  "it  was  the  do 
ing  of  the  women  folks." 

My  heart  gave  a  leap  at  the  announcement,  for  it 
carried  a  great  deal  more  with  it  than  Doddridge 
Knapp  knew. 

"I  am  a  thousand  times  obliged  to  you — and  the 
ladies,"  I  said. 

"Well,  I  wasn't  unwilling,"  he  said  indulgently. 
"In  fact,  I  intended  to  do  something  handsome  for 
you.  But  there's  one  condition  I  must  make." 

I  looked  my  inquiry. 

"You  must  not  speculate.  You  haven't  got  the 
head  for  it." 

"Thank  you,"  I  said.  "I'll  keep  out,  except  un 
der  your  orders." 

"Right,"  he  said.  "You've  the  best  head  for 
carrying  out  orders  I  ever  found." 


400  BLINDFOLDED 

The  King  of  the  Street  waved  me  good  night, 
and  I  went  back  to  the  parlor. 

Luella  was  sitting  where  I  had  left  her,  and  no 
one  else  was  about.  She  was  looking  demurely 
down  and  did  not  glance  up  till  I  was  beside  her. 

"I  have  won  a  double  prize/'  I  said.  "I  am  the 
president  of  Omega.-" 

And  I  stooped  and  kissed  her. 


THE  END 


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